


Someone Out There Loves You

by Action Kitty (Lyra_87), Lyra (Lyra_87)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Prostitution, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_87/pseuds/Action%20Kitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_87/pseuds/Lyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe is adamant that she'll never fall in love again.</p><p>That is until she meets a handsome man named Gerard Way.</p><p>Too bad he's a high class prostitute.</p><p>Can love really conquer all, or will passion and jealousy tear them apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe POV

‘Do I really have to?’  
  
My voice came out as a childish whine while I bounced impatiently on my chair.  
  
‘Yes Chloe, it’s been two years already. You need to get laid and God damn it I am not letting you go another night without getting some dick.’  
  
Macy, my best friend, was crude as ever as she put the finishing touch to my makeup.  
  
‘Why do you care so much about my sex life?’ I asked in annoyance, while Andrea sat on my bed with her glass of wine as she watched the scene play out in amusement.  
  
‘Why, because I’m sick of feeling guilty every time I get some and I can’t tell my best friend about it unless I want to rub it in her face.’  
  
I sighed dramatically.  
  
‘Guys just aren’t interested Macy. Dressing me up like some kind of Barbie isn’t going to get me laid, or at least not by any guy I would actually want to have sex with.’  
  
‘Don’t be so fussy Chloe. Just get a guy, any guy, and have some fun. You’re so sexually frustrated you can’t even watch a sex scene on the TV anymore without squirming in your seat!’  
  
I blushed furiously.  
  
‘That’s not true!.’  
  
‘Yes it is’ Andrea cut in. ‘I saw you the other night. You need to get laid honey, pronto.’  
  
‘I’m not into one night stands, you know that!’ I whined again, sounding more stroppy by the minute.  
  
‘Let tonight be the exception then! You need to get fucked, and I’m gonna make you do it.’ Macy ordered as she finally put the brush down and let me inspect my reflection in the mirror.  
  
‘How, are you gonna stand there and watch while I screw some random guy? I’m not really into that sort of thing, but whatever floats your boat.’  
  
Macy lightly slapped the back of my head, her voice squeaking out an offended ‘Hey!’ before giggling along with me and Andrea.  
  
‘I have my ways, Chloe.’  
  
‘And I have my dignity and self respect.’ I argued.  
  
Macy rolled her eyes, before dragging me off the chair and inspecting her work.  
  
‘Damn you’re looking fine girl, if I don’t say so myself’ Macy gloated, proud of her finished work.  
  
I had to admit, I was impeccably dressed in a perfect fitting electric blue dress that emphasised my impressive cleavage while subtly smoothing out my generous curves. My auburn hair was wavy and loose, and my make-up highlighted my big brown eyes and dark eyelashes. For the first time in a long time I felt slightly okay with the woman that stared back at me in the mirror. My last boyfriend had completely shattered my confidence when he told me he no longer loved me because, I quote, ‘You made me believe you were fat with the way you go on about your weight all the time.’ We had been together for over four years and now, two years after he had left me, at the age of twenty six my ‘friends’ had decided it was their duty to take me out and make sure I ended my two year dry spell. Needless to say, I wasn’t exactly delighted with their plan; in fact I had been downright pissed off when they told me they were taking me out against my will. After the heartbreak I suffered I was determined never to put myself into the same situation ever again. I still hated the male of the species; they were all liars and cowards at the end of the day. I was adamant that I would never again let myself fall prey to their cunning and hurtful games.  
  
‘You’re definitely getting laid, that dress is amazing on you. If I wasn’t into guys I would do you myself.’ Macy said with pride.  
  
‘Thank you for your ever so insightful compliments’ I muttered, taking a large gulp of alcohol. I would need it if I was going to go through with the girls’ plans for the night.  
  
We decided to go to the trendy nightclub in the middle of the city. It was usually packed full of rich snobs who had more money than sense. The price to get in alone was scandalous, but luckily for me I had just gotten a promotion at work and I was now an office manager. It was good pay for the work I did, and I knew I was lucky to have the job. I was secured for life at the age of twenty six. My friends were all in similar positions, with good jobs and great pay. So we did what every girl in our situation would do: we shopped all day and got drunk at night during the weekend. We were young with no responsibilities. This had been a tradition for the last three years until Macy snatched up a boyfriend. With me being the only one without a boyfriend, it meant that they were feeling guilty about my lack of a love life. So, they were taking it upon themselves to fix it. The girls were moving in with their boyfriends in two weeks when the lease in our shared apartment was up and they wanted me to meet someone who would fill the void they would leave. I couldn’t convince them that I was fine with the idea of living on my own. With my new salary I could afford a nice apartment by myself and I was looking forward to it. I had spent so long convincing myself that I would be happier alone that I really believed it. To me, the idea of having a boyfriend who demanded my time and attention, a person who I had to explain myself to and take into consideration if I made any plans, sounded like hell to me. I wanted to be free to do what I wanted, when I wanted, however I wanted. I was glad that I was the kind of girl that didn’t get attention when I went out. Guys never noticed me so I avoided any entanglements and so far it was working out for me. No more heartbreaks and no more compromising.  
  
‘That’s enough complaining from you! Finish your drink and we’ll be on our way.’  
  
I finished my wine in one large gulp, with Macy and Andrea quickly following my example. They grabbed their clutch bags, locked up the apartment and we hailed the first cab in sight that would take our half drunken asses to the most exclusive and prestigious club in the city. I actually felt bad for the driver who had to deal with our giggles and high pitched laughter. Nobody would have realised that from Monday to Friday we were professionals who were in charge of other people. Our behaviour suggested we were no older than a group of college girls who were out to get lucky. I made sure to give the driver a generous tip when we hobbled out of the cab. His face light up when he realised, showing me his toothy grin.  
  
‘Have a good night girls!’ he called out after us.  
  
We spotted the long line and groaned in unison at the thought of having to wait.  
  
‘Oh, quit moaning. It’ll be worth the wait. Just try to act sober and we’ll get in.’ Andrea ordered.  
  
She was the quiet one of the group, but by far the bossiest. It was how she got ahead in work, and now at the tender age of twenty eight she was on her way to being a junior partner in the law firm she had dedicated the last few years to. We begrudgingly stood in line for over half an hour, our bodies freezing in the cold November air. It was dry at least, but it isn’t much consolation when you're wearing a dress that barely covers your ass. I resented Macy for forcing me to wear the dress as I dreamed about how much warmer I would be in jeans, or even in tights. I wrapped my arms around myself as though it would bring me more heat, which of course it didn’t. It just made me appear grouchy and unapproachable to anybody who didn’t know me. I listened more than I talked while in line as my chattering teeth made it hard to understand what I was saying.  
  
I was nearly delirious with joy when we finally made it to the top of the line. The bouncers eyed us with slow, careful gazes. They were trying to judge whether we were worthy enough for entry into their club. They took in our clothes, our jewellery, the way we stood and whether we looked like the type that would make fools of ourselves while on the premises.  
  
‘Alright ladies, in you go.’ The bouncer to the right of the door spoke in a low, booming voice.  
  
Once he spoke the words we were dismissed from his scrutiny, and we walked into the club with big smiles on our faces.  
  
We did it. We successfully got into the club that most people couldn’t even afford to step inside. It seemed that all our years of hard work in college, and focusing on our careers when we left, was finally paying off. We went over to the desk and paid, where the girl behind the desk gave us a fake smile that hid her disdain. She obviously didn’t think we fit in, and maybe she was right. We could afford the price, but we came from a different world than the socialites and business men and woman who frequented the club. For us, this club would never be the norm. It was a once off luxury to celebrate the end of an era for us, and a means to an end for Macy and Andrea who hoped they could find someone desperate enough to screw me. She took our coats and gave us our stubs for collecting them at the end of the night. I put mine in my clutch bag straight away, afraid of losing the ticket if I wasn’t careful. We walked down the carpeted entrance, which screamed luxury and superficiality. Our high heels made us walk taller as we passed the opened doors to the place where the magic happened.  
  
We stood still when we made it inside, our eyes taking in our surroundings. The floor was carpeted with a plush, electric blue carpet. The walls were silver and lined with mirrors that made sure you could see everything that was going on. The two, spiral staircases that stood on opposite ends of the main floor were silver metal and what looked like diamantés that made the light from the chandelier reflect off them elegantly. The main dance floor was like any other you’d find in a typical club, with its wooden floor that was accessible by going down three steps. It was encased by a silver rail, making it look exclusive. The rest of the place was covered in plush couches with mahogany tables. They were set up like booths, and lit up with candles in the table. The bar was the main attraction though. It screamed class and elegance, with the bar tenders dressed in tuxes and styled to perfection. The coloured bottles that contained alcohol of every kind imaginable were thrown about with practised precision as they made cocktails to order. The men behind the bar were all extremely good looking, clean shaven and full of charm guessing by the smiles they threw out to unsuspecting customers. The waitresses that walked around carrying trays of drinks were just as beautiful and well dressed in short black dresses, high heels and high ponytails. Make up seemed to be a must, but strictly minimal. I envied their natural beauty, wishing I could look so casually gorgeous without a pile of makeup.  
  
‘C’mon girls, I say we should start with strawberry daiquiris’ Macy took charge, linking our arms and guiding us to the bar.  
  
‘What can I get you ladies?’ the blond barman who came over to us spoke with a low, husky voice and flashed us a smile worthy of an A List actor. It was distracting, and I was thankful Macy seemed unaffected enough to order for us.  
  
‘Three strawberry daiquiris’ please, and three tequila’s while you’re at it.’ She flashed him her own pretty smile.  
  
‘Coming right up, ladies!’  
  
‘Should we be starting shots so soon?’ I asked, past experience making me wary of doing too much too soon. It never ended well for me.  
  
‘Chloe, darling, we’re making sure you get so drunk tonight that you stop thinking so much and just go with the flow, okay? You need to get laid, and getting drunk is the first step to achieving that goal!’  
  
The barman put the shots in front of us, smirking at us in a way that let us know he had heard. I refused to look at him; my face would only turn a brighter shade of red. Instead I picked up the packet of salt in front of me, opening it with a vicious tug and poured it on the front of my hand. I clasped the slice of lemon with the same hand, careful not to spill the salt. With my free hand I grabbed the small glass containing the amber liquid, waiting for the others to do the same. When we were all ready we clinked our shot glasses together before licking the salt, downing the shot and biting into the lemon.  
  
The bar counter had a mirror sheen to it, making me grimace when I saw the face I pulled while drinking the vile liquid. My stomach churned, hating me for forcing it to digest tequila. The daiquiris’ were put in front of us by the time we recovered and I wasted no time taking my first sip to get rid of the bad taste left behind from the shot.  
  
‘Let’s get one of the booths; my feet will kill me if I stand for too long!’ Andrea gestured to one of the two free booths directly opposite us, which had a direct view of the dance floor and the bar.  
  
We raced over as fast as our high heels would let us, ensuring that nobody would take the seats from us. We sat down, enjoying the feeling of resting our feet. High heels were a necessity considering my barely five foot frame, but they were a killer. We sat and drank for an hour, each of us drinking another two cocktails and a shot. We weren’t drunk yet, but we were certainly on the way to destination drunksville.  
  
‘So, do you see any guys you like?’ Andrea interrupted Macy’s rant about a slutty girl from work, earning a huff from Macy.  
  
I scanned the room quickly, without really looking. I had no intention of meeting anyone tonight but I needed to at least pretend to be on the lookout to avoid a lecture on how I needed to ‘loosen up’.  
  
‘Nope’ I drawled out, emphasising the ‘p’ sound with a pop.  
  
Macy and Andrea started scouting too. I was sure they realised my lack of interest while looking so they were taking it upon themselves to find a suitable candidate. It seemed like they had given up when I saw Andrea’s eyes light up.  
  
‘Well well,’ she muttered, before whispering to Macy. I saw Macy’s eyes widen at Andrea’s words in either shock or giddiness, I couldn’t decide which. All I knew was that either way, it wasn’t good. I decided to follow where Andrea’s eyes had landed but not seeing anyone who I would go for.  
  
‘I’ll be right back’ Andrea stood and, quickly fixing her dress. I watched her go, but I was surprised to see she didn’t go over to anyone. I saw how her gaze lingered on a raven haired man, who gave her a knowing smirk but she didn’t approach him. She continued to walk on. After that I stopped watching, guessing that I was over reacting.  
  
Upon her return I realised I shouldn’t have been so easily misled. She came back to the table with the raven haired man in tow. I couldn’t deny that she had picked someone who was my type. His raven hair was slightly long, going just past his ears. His skin was deliciously pale, and in the soft light of the club it appeared blemish free. His lips were thin but perfectly shaped, with a cute cupid’s bow that begged to be kissed. His smile was boyish and charming, and if I had been standing I’m sure my knees would have gotten weak. His eyes were a hazel colour, big, wide and enthusiastic. His grey shirt was opened at the top, showing his neck. The black jeans he wore were tight, and showed off the fact that he had amazing legs. It was also with mortification that I realised if I looked hard enough I could see his ‘package’. Upon the realisation I immediately turned red, and avoided looking anywhere but at his face.  
  
‘Girls, I’d like you to meet Gerard. He’s a …friend of Claire, my boss. Gerard, I’d like to meet Macy, and my friend I was telling you about, Chloe.’  
  
‘Hi Chloe, It’s nice to meet you’ he grinned, giving me a megawatt smile.  
  
‘Hi’ I gave him a small wave, thankful for the alcohol in my system that gave the courage to speak.  
  
‘Gerard, why don’t you take a seat beside Chloe’ Andrea suggested with a devious smile, earning a panicked glare from me.  
  
Before I could protest he slid into the booth beside me, trapping me on the inside. My heart was thumping widely and my brain was on overload as I tried to calm myself down. It didn’t help that I could smell him, which sent my senses into overdrive. If there was one thing that turned me on more than anything, it was a man who smelled good. And boy, did he smell divine.  
  
‘I’m sorry about her’ I immediately apologised, feeling ashamed that he had been dragged over to me ‘ I don’t know what she said to get you over here, but whatever it was I’m sure it iasn’t true.’  
  
‘I don’t know about that. She told me she wanted me to meet her friends, one of whom is a very pretty redhead. She introduces me to a very pretty redhead. So far she’s true to her word.’  
  
I was hoping the blue light that engulfed the room would hide the blush that had crept onto my cheeks. He was staring at me with a knowing look and I was sure he could see how flustered his words had made me. My skin was starting to heat up, and it was nothing to do with the temperature of the club.  
  
‘So, why don’t you tell me a bit more about yourself Chloe?’ He asked, taking a sip of beer. I could see the way his Adam’s apple moved as he gulped the liquid down. I swallowed hard, trying not to let him know just how much he affected me with that one simple action.  
  
The gleeful look in my friends’ eyes told me the horrible truth. In spite of all my protests about not wanting to meet anybody for a relationship or casual sex, I may have just met the person who might be the exception to my rule.


	2. Chapter One

  
*Gerard POV*  
  
I did my best to drown out the annoying high pitch moans coming from Claire’s mouth. If I paid attention to it, it would definitely put me off my rhythm and Claire was one of those Clients’ that was an ‘In-Out’ job. I never got any true gratification from her, but she paid me for that. Quite handsomely too, so I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw to balance out the irritation and I continued thrusting into her harshly. In most cases I would enjoy the fact that I could be as rough as I wanted as she laid beneath me, but the way she arched her back and tried to dictate the speed of things by gripping my hips took away from the pleasure. It took everything in me to not hold her hips down and gain back a bit of control, but that wasn’t my job. The bigger her orgasm the better the pay so I had to suck it up, grit my teeth and just hope she’d finish soon. I was on edge today, to the point where I almost cancelled my regular ‘appointment’ but the generous pay was too much to give up. Finally I felt her entire body clench, her arms tightened around as I felt her internal muscles squeeze around me. It wasn’t enough to get me my release though like badly written erotica novels would lead you to believe. I waited an appropriate amount of time before pulling out of her, still hard and breathing heavily from the exertion. She gladly let me go; giggling a little as she recovered her own laboured breath.  
  
‘You never fail to disappoint Way.’  
  
‘I aim to please’ I muttered dryly, thinly veiling my sarcasm. She wouldn’t hear the venomous undertone in my voice. She had gotten off and that was all she cared about. It was the same every Saturday afternoon. I’d come to her place , screw her brains out for half an hour and leave with another grand in my pocket. I didn’t say anything else as I pulled the condom off and threw it in the trash can near the bed. I got dressed, ignoring my hard on as I rearranged myself in my jeans. Thankfully I had worn my loose fitting pair today otherwise it would’ve been a problem walking down a busy street with an obvious hard on. She stood up and threw a thigh length shirt on, before walking out of the bedroom, heading into the living room. I had just finished buttoning my shirt when she came back, a wad of green notes in her hand. It was the same routine every week, so any awkwardness was well gone by now. We had a mutual understanding of where we stood with each other.  
  
‘Thanks again. I won’t be around next weekend, I have a girlie weekend planned in San Francisco. I’ll see you the following Saturday’ she told me in a businesslike manner while handing the cash over to me. I didn’t bother counting it before stuffing it in my back pocket. We’d had this arrangement going for the last year so I knew I could trust her. I flashed a quick smile.  
  
‘Don’t miss me too much doll.’  
  
She scoffed playfully.  
  
‘I’ll try my best kid. Take care of yourself, see you soon.’  
  
I strolled out of her penthouse apartment, acting as though I had every right to be in one of the fanciest apartment blocks in the city. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. I had sex for money, but I was fortunate enough to have made a name for myself with the city’s socialites, business women and bored rich housewives. I was picky about who I added to my client list. That trick was enough to make me more desirable, on top of my reputation for never failing to satisfy. I didn’t walk the streets like some of my female counter parts. I didn’t have to screw any unattractive women. Most of my clients were well groomed, well kept or well paid women who cared about their appearance. Even the slightly older ones like Claire looked half their age. Most of them were just frustrated women who found it hard to find a man who wasn’t intimated by their success in the world, or middle aged housewives of rich men who were too busy screwing their mistresses to pay attention to their wives. I filled a void in society, and I got pay it deserved. The only downside to my job was the occasional hard on I was left with when I did my job  _too_  well. The women didn’t care about whether I was left hanging, which never normally bothered me. Today was an off day though. I had been restless and agitated all day, my blood was prickling under my skin to the point where I was subconsciously clenching my fists that hung by my sides. My jaw was still held tightly, my teeth grit as though I was aiming for a fight.  
  
I stepped into a coffee shop on my way back home, my feet taking me there automatically as my mind wandered. Maybe I was just frustrated by the fact it’d been so long since I had sex just solely for the pleasure of it. My line of work meant relationships were out of the question for me and I had so much sex that one night stands weren’t my thing anymore. Besides, I needed to keep my strength and stamina for the clients. Another myth that Mills and Boon projected was that men could get a hard on within seconds after an orgasm. Believe me, if it were I’d be making twice the money I earn. I ordered my Americano with creamer and sugar to go without fully registering the fact I was talking to a human being. I pulled my wallet out and handed the guy the first note I latched onto to. It was muscle memory that made me move to my right and wait for the barista to make my coffee. I took the freshly made coffee the minute it was put down on the wooden counter, walking out of there with haste as I rushed home to my apartment that was just down the road. My lifestyle meant I was able to afford to rent a rather nice apartment in one of the more sought after areas. On a bad week I pulled in about three grand. A good week I could get anything up to eight if I stretched myself. It was a two bedroom place, with a large living area, a separate kitchen that was quite modern and a bathroom. It had been decorated by the previous occupant who had given it a very modern look. It wasn’t exactly to my taste, but I didn’t change it. It was nice enough the way it was, and it wasn’t as though I had many people over who would care about the decor.  
  
I spent the next couple of hours restlessly pacing my apartment in between sketching on my IPad. I couldn’t get the lingering frustration from earlier out of my system. For the first time in a very long time I wanted to go out and get laid. I didn’t want to fuck someone to get them off, I wanted to find someone who wanted to please me as well. Or at the very least, find someone who would let me screw them the way I needed. It was a sudden snap decision that led to me hop into the shower quickly, washing Claire’s scent off me from earlier with the intention of heading out tonight. I didn’t have to think about where I was going. I was a regular at Delilah’s, one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. On occasion I went there to find new clients or bump into one of the more irregular ones who were looking for a quick screw. I wasn’t going for work tonight though. Tonight was going to be all about me. I pulled on a grey shirt and black jeans, not too concerned about my appearance. I never had too much trouble picking up women since I left my awkward fat teen years behind, and once you weren’t dressed too shabbily it was easy to pick someone up. I left my hair un-styled as per usual. I didn’t have it in me to spend hours doing my hair, or even five minutes. I made sure I had my wallet and my keys before slamming my apartment door behind me.  
  
I decided to walk to the club, enjoying the fresh air even as it chilled me to the bone. I had a car but I rarely used it unless a client lived outside the city. Walking was a way for me to clear my head; it relaxed me and calmed me down. It gave me time to think, sometimes it even gave me some inspiration to paint or draw something. Right now it was calming me down and bringing my frustration down a notch. I didn’t have a plan as such because experience taught me that I didn’t really need one. I didn’t have a type when it came to women, or at least not in terms of physicality. I admired beauty and attractive features like any other person, and to me a curvy blond was just as beautiful as a willowy brunette. I didn’t care too much about the parcel tonight, as long as it was pretty and easy to unwrap. Personality was the biggest attraction for me when it came to the opposite sex. I admired strong women who were articulate and honest, who were easy to talk to and had an open mind. That didn’t matter to me tonight though. I wasn’t on the hunt for a relationship. In fact it was probably the farthest thing from my mind right then and it would be for the foreseeable future. I wasn’t a candidate for anything beyond a quick screw. My ‘lifestyle’ was incompatible to any sort of commitment, even a loose one. I couldn’t dedicate time to anyone other than clients and the few friends I managed to maintain over the years. As lonely as it was at times, I couldn’t make myself change it. I had tried and failed to make it into the comic book industry, managing to scrap internships but never a paid job. I had no other options that would help me maintain the lifestyle I had created for myself. No other job would pay me as well for the little amount of effort I put into it.  
  
I finally made it to the club. There was a long line which consisted of mostly females who were huddling together to fight the cold nip in the air. I was fortunate enough to know the bouncers of the club. They knew what I did for a living, and how much my ‘services’ were appreciated by the members who frequented the club. As long as I conducted the business outside of the club they had no problem with me scoping for clients. With a curt nod they let me skip the queue and go inside, where I flashed my member’s card to skip the fee. I paid a high price for the luxury. Their annual fee was extortionate to the extreme, but it was a worthwhile investment for my line of work. The price to partake in the exclusivity of the club ensured that any potential client could well afford my time. Plus, it was one of those clubs that anyone who was somebody worth knowing attended. Celebrities weren’t an irregular occurrence in this place, and one of my ambitions in life was to score one of them. I made my way straight to the bar, not caring to take in my surroundings. I needed a drink to simmer me down a little. The bar tenders recognised me, and I ignored the knowing smirks on their face. I ordered a beer, and took a large gulp when it was placed in front of me. I repeated this a couple of times before turning around and scoping the place for suitable candidates. I was a little disappointed with the turnout when I realised I didn’t see anyone who got my attention right away. It may sound callous and harsh, but tonight was about what I wanted for once. I sighed, almost giving up when someone caught my eye.  
  
She had dark hair, piercing eyes and a slim build which was encased in a rather clingy dress. She was sitting down in one of the booths with two other women, one of them another admittedly attractive brunette who seemed to be shorter in height and a pale red head who would been deemed pretty if she didn’t look so bored and uninterested. The tall brunette held my gaze for a moment, before whispering to her dark haired friend, whose eyes seemed to widen in shock at her words. She stood up, fixing her dress while keeping her eyes on me. She tilted her head a fraction, gesturing for me to follow her. I downed my beer with a self satisfied smirk, slamming it down a little too hard before quickly catching up with her. I found her by the toilets.  
  
‘You’re Gerard, aren’t you?’ she spoke the moment I was within earshot.  
  
I held in my sigh and nodded, realising that this wasn’t going to go my way.  
  
‘And who are you?’ I responded, amused at her abruptness. She was a fiery one, and definitely  _not_  the kind of person I wanted tonight.  
  
‘The name’s Andrea, my boss is one of your clients, Claire.’  
  
‘I’m not working tonight love…but if you want a little fun I’m sure we can arrange something another time.’  
  
‘It’s not for me. My friend, she’s going through a bit of a dry spell for the last while and she  _really_  needs to get back into action. She’s being a little…difficult though, because her dick of an ex boyfriend completely shattered her confidence. She says she doesn’t want to get with anybody but I think all she needs is for someone to show a bit of interest. I was hoping maybe you could help. I’ve heard you’re a charming guy, if anybody can get her to… loosen up a bit I’m sure you can.’  
  
This sounded like an opportunity I was looking for. It would be a challenge of sorts. I found myself relishing the thought of the chase. Maybe this was what I needed, somebody who wasn’t gagging to get off. She didn’t know who I was so there would be no expectation for me to go above and beyond to please her. The thought made me grin. She would take some convincing, and if I played my cards right I could have her exactly where I want her.  
  
‘I assume you’re talking about one of the two ladies you’re with tonight?’ I asked, unashamedly intrigued.  
  
‘The red head in the blue dress. Her name’s Chloe. I’ll pay you whatever you want, but don’t let her know what you do for a living. She’ll freak if she realises I’m paying you and it will only make the situation worse.’  
  
I remembered the girl alright. She was pretty, even with the bored expression that marred her face. She was attractive enough for me to screw. I smiled in genuine excitement at the prospect. I could have taken the money while getting exactly what I wanted but I decided not to take it. It would only taint what I wanted to achieve. I wanted a regular hook up, with no attachments or expectations.  
  
‘Don’t worry about payment. I’ll do this one pro bono.’  
  
She eyed me with suspicion. She must a lawyer I decided, she was giving me a piercing gaze that was undoubtedly trying to figure out the reason for my generosity.  
  
‘If I’m to believe what Claire tells me you charge a high price for your … services. What’s the catch?’  
  
I raised an eyebrow at her, surprised by her sudden attitude change.  
  
‘There’s no catch I assure you. I’m just feeling generous tonight. She doesn’t know who I am, so let’s keep it that way.’  
  
She stared me down in a silent contest, trying to seek out what my true motive was. I kept my face as pleasant as possible, throwing her a charming smile. With a heavy sigh escaping her mouth she seemed satisfied enough to proceed and nodded her head in confirmation.  
  
‘Okay. Follow me then.’


	3. Three

*Chloe POV*  
  
I hated the way Andrea and Macy were beaming at me, like two high school teenagers goading me with ‘I know something you don’t know’ expressions on their flawless, perfectly made up faces. It made me want to giggle; not a nice girly giggle but one filled with anxiety and paranoia that I used when I was nervous. Their devious smiles were nothing to be brushed off. They were determined to reach their goal tonight. I give them a pleading look, wishing they would do something to take me away from this awkward situation. It was the closest I had ever been to hell on earth. I was sitting beside a gorgeous man, who was watching me with interest as he waited for me to speak. A gorgeous man who I was certain only wanted one thing, and one thing only. This was exactly the kind of man I wanted to avoid for the rest of my usually quite pleasant solitary existence. He was the kind of man who, if given enough time, would get my panties down without a second thought. I was afraid that if given enough time I  _would_  want him to get them off, before screwing my brains out to the point where I couldn’t walk for days. It had been so long since I last had sex that I could feel myself was responding to his warm body that was pressed up oh so closely to mine, greedily taking in his scent and making me throb with want. That wasn’t an exaggeration. I was literally  _throbbing_  with the need to get laid.  
  
My mind couldn’t be defeated so easily. I refused to let my sex crazed hormones get the best of me. Celibacy wasn’t an option I had willing chosen at first, but after two years I had gotten used to it. It was like an old friend who was familiar and didn’t have any expectations. There was no demand from celibacy, no invested feelings that may get hurt. Celibacy and I had gotten along so well over the last two years, and hell if I was going to let this man change that. I was nothing if not loyal.  
  
‘There’s not much to tell’ I told him bluntly, wishing I could just turn on the bitch switch like Macy could but I had been raised better than that. Being a bitch would really work in my favour right now, enabling me to be nasty and spiteful without feeling bad about it. I didn’t know this guy but I would still walk away feeling like shit if I acted as anything but nice. Manners were important, or so my parents taught me. Nobody deserves to be treated with badness, even if they were eyeing you like a piece of meat.  
  
‘I’m sure that’s not true’ he replied, his voice low with charm and ease, flashing me a smile that he obviously thought was sexy. Which it was, it totally was but, that only increased my annoyance. The ease with which he spoke made me wonder what exactly it was that Andrea had said to him. Had she told him I was a guaranteed lay? I wouldn’t put it past her to do something so humiliating and demeaning to me but I still wondered if she would really do something so dire to get me laid.  
  
I shrugged, taking a sip of my cocktail with false nonchalance to avoid saying any more. He smelled divine, and the more I drank the more the scent invaded my senses. I hoped that by being quiet he would lose interest. After all, nobody liked a quiet, meek redhead who shut down when you tried to talk to them. I avoided his gaze, which was focused on me as I took an extra long sip of the strawberry alcoholic goodness.  
  
‘You’re a shy one, aren’t you?’ he chuckled in amusement at his observation. He didn’t seem to be put off by it yet, but it would take a little time. The awkward conversation would piss him off eventually.  
  
‘Not really, I’m just not loud and obnoxious like my friends’ I spoke loudly enough for Andrea and Macy to hear, passive aggressively informing them of my anger at the situation they had put me in.  
  
‘Well, you know what they say about the quiet ones’ he smirked, winking at me and making my cheeks burn red underneath my plastered make up in anger. His arrogance was just underneath the surface, it radiated off him and it rubbed me up the wrong way. He was charming, suave, appealing and he knew it. Something told me this guy had a pretty good reading of me already, and he knew how to push my buttons. I was certain this guy must be a model or a small time actor by the confidence he possessed. He was sitting beside me, pretty much pressed up beside me, and he showed no signs of awkwardness. How could someone be so confident, be so sure of themselves and their ability to get what they want? He was certain he would get what he wanted from me. Perhaps if he seemed less sure of himself, and I had consumed enough alcohol, I might be willing to give it to him. But the mischievous twinkle in his eyes coupled with the false flattery made sure he was getting nothing from me. Even if he was hot.  
  
‘I’m not quiet, just socially awkward and not at all interested in false compliments from over confident men.’ I responded with a tight smile, restraining myself from being overly rude. His forwardness was putting me on edge and raising my defences.  
  
‘Ouch. So tell me, what are you into then?’ He asked, ignoring my comment.  
  
I sighed, swirling the straw in my cocktail glass to avoid looking at his pretty face which was too pleasant a sight to look at. He might be an overconfident ass, but he was an attractive one.  
  
‘Reading mostly I suppose, watching movies and television as well… anything that doesn’t take up too much of my time.’  
  
‘Anti-social, I like it. I’m not the most social person myself; I’m more into comics and drawing.’  
  
That took me by surprise. He didn’t strike me as an artistic kind of person. Artists were supposed to be introverted, serious and moody. This guy was the total opposite of that. He was open and engaging, and completely contradictory to the statement he made. His clothes were tight and showed off his toned physique, revealing confidence in his appearance. I narrowed my eyes, suspicious and disbelieving. It wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that he would lie to get what he wanted. In fact, it was what most men did and I saw no reason for him to be an exception to this. He was trying to figure me out, to find the chink in my armour that would let his charm sink through and get my panties down for him.  
  
‘You don’t strike me as the artistic type’ I challenged.  
  
‘I spent four years in Art College. I’m a qualified cartoonist if you must know.’  
  
‘Where did you go?’  
  
‘School of Visual Arts.’  
  
‘Impressive’ I murmured. ‘What’s it like being a cartoonist?’  
  
‘It’s fun, but it’s a hard industry to get into. There’re lots of internships and long hours to boot before you get anywhere. It’s why my ex broke up with me. She didn’t think I would make it and I quote “I don’t want a starving artist for a boyfriend” ’  
  
That got my attention. I realised too soon that he was aiming for exactly that, his passive face faltering for a second as a smirk of triumph twitched on his lips. He was good, going for the sympathy vote in hopes of getting laid. I wouldn’t be that easily fooled, even if I felt a slight twinge of sympathy.  
  
‘You think yours is bad? Mine told me I made him believe I was fat as his defence when I caught him cheating on me with a friend of mine from college.’  
  
He raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a blunt response.  
  
‘Okay, you win in the shittiest ex department. Bet I beat you in the most embarrassing college story though.’ His charming smile was back.  
  
‘Oh please. One night I got so drunk at a frat party I believed a group of guys who told me the bathroom light was a clap activated light. I clapped for ages before I realised they were listening through the door and laughing at me. After that night I swore never to drink tequila again.’  
  
He snorted.  
  
‘I went into class drunk one time and I puked in front of about fifty people. It was the first week of freshmen year and I was known as “the puke dude” for the next four years by the entire campus of SVA.’  
  
I tried to fight it. I really did, but the expression on his face made me laugh. It was a mixture of embarrassment, shame and disgust at the memory that still caused him discomfort to think about. I could see the little light of triumph behind his eyes when the chuckle escaped from me, unbidden. He thought he was breaking through my barrier. If he thought that by telling me a couple of amusing stories and a sob tale that he could break down the wall of steel I’d built…well, maybe he was right. I did feel my resolve weakening as the laughter continued to flow from my lips. I shouldn’t have found the story as funny as I did, but with a large amount of alcohol in my system my sense of what was funny and what wasn’t got skewed. I blame the alcohol for the way my body started to relax once my laughter dissipated. It was the only reason for why I couldn’t pull myself together after one funny story.  
  
‘Oh my God, okay fine. You win that round.’ I admitted defeat, taking another sip of my cocktail in an effort to calm my laughter down.  
  
I would love to say that I recovered my will power after that, that his ability to make me laugh didn’t have an effect on me but, I was enraptured after that. I went into some kind of teenage girl mode that overrode my common sense, my logic and what little pride and self preservation I had built up over the years. I was more intoxicated than I realised, and even though I wasn’t falling about the place I was definitely drunk. I wasn’t aware of the fact that my glass was never empty, thanks to the very large pitcher of strawberry daiquiri Macy and Andrea used to refill my glass when I wasn’t looking. All I could do was listen to his every word as we talk about everything. His voice was made for telling stories, and he had a way with words so that everything flowed from his lips. He never hesitated, never stumbled for a word. His confidence, which at first was a source of aggravation, was what kept me focused on him, and him alone for the rest of the night. The thing was, the more alcohol I consumed, the more I could see that there was more to him than the over confidence, the sex appeal and the charm. I could see all that for the façade it was, or maybe it was just something that I wanted to see, to justify the fact that I wanted him more than I wanted anybody in a long time. There was a longing in him; I could see it in his eyes. There was a light there that was so dulled it was hard to see, whether from heartbreak or from something else I didn’t know. All I knew is that I could see it, and I identified with the feeling. It was the same emotion I carried every day with the acknowledgement that I would always be alone. I couldn’t trust enough to ever pledge myself to somebody; the ability to trust had been smashed to pieces long ago. That meant I would never be able to open myself up to the possibility of finding love, or sharing my life with somebody. Gerard had that same acceptance about him. It’s hard to pin point how I could see it, but I could just sense it and once I noticed it, it was glaringly obvious. Strangely, it made me trust him more. Words were false, easy to twist and had the ability to wound deeply. Body language, and the hidden depths in a person’s eyes, that was where the truth of who a person really was, where it was kept and safe guarded in the hope nobody else could see through you. After I had consumed half the pitcher of daiquiri, and he had a few more bottles of beer, the façade he had seemed to slip away; revealing the real him. After a while, I began to realise that this guy was just as broken as I was. Maybe that was why I wasn’t too annoyed when I realised that Macy and Andrea had slipped away unnoticed, leaving us alone in our own wee bubble, unaffected by everything that was going on around us. I checked my phone to find a text from Andrea.  
  
 _‘Apartment is all your tonight, make good use of it x’_  
  
I wanted to be angry and annoyed at the obvious set up. I wanted to be angry that they abandoned me, leaving me in the hands of a guy who for all intents and purposes was a stranger, but instead I found my stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation. Gerard was practically wrapped around me we were that close; our hips, thighs and arms touching and his scent was as potent as ever with every inhale of oxygen I took in.  
  
‘Is everything alright?’ Gerard asked, a little smirk informing me that he had read the message over my shoulder. The blush that had taken over my cheeks earlier returned in full force, only this time my make up was slightly worse for wear so I was certain he could see it. I couldn’t help the tremble that racked my body when I thought about the possibilities of where tonight could lead. I wondered if I should let go of my self-imposed celibacy for one night, and just give in. I knew upfront what this was; it would be one night with a handsome guy. He made me feel attractive and for once I wanted to feel wanted. There was a doubt in the back of my mind that I was picking up all the signals wrong; maybe he was just overly friendly, or perhaps I had turned him off during the course of the night. My make up wasn’t as neat now, he would see my flaws.  
  
‘The girls headed off, they probably went to see their boyfriends’ I offered an awkward smile, my alcohol infused body making it impossible to hide my emotions and desire. My body was heating up again, my awareness of my proximity to Gerard’s body increasing tenfold since I read the message. My skin wasn’t the only thing that seemed to heat up; Gerard’s gaze was hot and piercing. My mouth dried up and I instinctively swallowed to bring some moisture back. It didn’t work as Gerard mouth leaned toward my ear, his warm breath tickling my ear.  
  
‘Maybe I should take you home, make sure you get there safely.’  
  
When the words left his gorgeous lips, his voice husky and filled with unspoken dirty promises, there was no way in hell I could say no.

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead people! I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Lyra

*Gerard POV*  
  
She was a little tipsy. The uptight, unfriendly façade from earlier was now completely gone, and I had her right where I wanted her. She was relaxed and far too happy with my invasion of her personal space. Everything worked out the way I wanted it to, and I mentally patted myself on the back when we left the club. She wanted me, not because I was providing a service but because I had charmed her enough to break through her barrier. She would let me do what I wanted with her and I couldnt lie and say that the thought wasn’t enough to get me a little hard already. That was, until we walked outside the club and the fresh air hit us. It hit me with a sinking feeling just how drunk she was as she giggled and pulled her coat around her frame tightly. Her slurring was minimal, which fooled me into believing she wasn’t too far gone when we were sitting down in the club. Now I could see she was unable to walk steadily, and how unfocused and glazed her eyes were. She had been perfectly able to speak when inside, but I knew it didn’t equate to her capability of knowing what she wanted, or what she didn’t want. I cursed myself for the predicament I was now in. Unfortunately I was sober enough to know that in her current state I would be taking advantage of her if I fucked her. If I was more inebriated it wouldn’t be an issue at all but I had been pacing myself in order to get my main objective for the night accomplished, and in doing so I had put myself in a position of responsibility over a woman who had been abandoned by her friends, who trusted me to take care of her. I wanted to fuck her, there was no doubt about that but, I wanted someone who wasn’t incapacitated. Having sex with someone who just laid there like a bag of potatoes was what I did during the day.  
  
“What’s your address?” I asked, barely keeping the anger out of my voice. It wasn’t her fault that tonight had turned out this way. It was mine for not taking her home sooner. I had been the one who ordered the last pitcher of cocktail, from which I had one drink.  
  
“Um…River…Riverhouse Bank apartments….down by Ninth Avenue.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow, impressed at the location. It was a swanky location, one that was a little out of my price range. It was a couple of blocks away from my own place. The girls really did live the high life it seemed. I didn’t comment on it, instead I flagged down the first cab that headed our way. I held Chloe’s hand the entire time for fear of her falling over and hurting herself. Her swaying wasn’t as bad as I originally thought but I was erring on the side of caution. She laced her fingers with mine when the cab pulled up to the curb and blushed. Maybe she wasn’t as drunk as I thought. Dear god I hoped she wasn’t.  
  
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” I asked, desperate for any indication that she was sober enough to know what she was doing. She nodded her head emphatically, so much so that she swayed with the force she put into it. I sighed in defeat, afraid that this wasn’t going to turn out the way I planned.  
  
I helped her into the taxi and gave him the address before sitting in the back beside her. She cuddled up next to me in the cab, wrapping her arms around mine and resting her head on my shoulder. Her big, brown eyes were a little hazy, but she wasn’t completely unaware. She bit her lip, and I swore with everything I had that she was silently begging me to kiss her. Fuck, I hadn’t wanted to do something as simple as kissing for so long but the way she looked at me made me want to tell the driver to drive faster. I battled with myself, the good guy part of me unwilling to use somebody who may not fully realise what they were doing. The other part of me, the one that was an asshole who put himself first, he wanted to ignore the good part of me. I spent my days fucking women who gave little or no regard for my wants. Would I really be such a bad guy if I did the same thing, just for once? She willingly invited me to her place. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, even if she was drunk. I hadn’t coerced her, or drugged her to get her here with me. In truth, there were men out there who wouldn’t think twice about having their way with her, even if she was drunk. She might regret it in the morning perhaps but could she claim she had been wronged? She wouldn’t realise that I was far more sober than her and if she questioned it, well I could deny it. I could argue that I held my liquor well (which I did). I could argue that she didn’t seem too drunk. Right now, she wanted me. In fact, if I were to take out the fuzzy moral grey, I wasn’t really doing anything wrong. I wasn’t doing anything that a thousand other guys wouldn’t do. The only difference was that she would probably enjoy what I did to her. So I gave in.  
  
I bent my head to meet her lips, which responded to mine straight away. They were eager, taking me by surprise. I nipped her bottom lip and slipped my tongue into her mouth when her lips parted without hesitation. Her tongue met mine with a gentle caress, and I instantly tasted the strawberry cocktail she had been consuming all night. I wasn’t the biggest fan of strawberry but tonight it equalled the taste of victory, so I lapped it up. The kiss didn’t last long, but it was all I needed to get rid of the last of my doubts. She was panting a little and she was a very willing participant in the events that were about to happen. She was just as hungry for it as I was. I threw money at the driver when he stopped and dragged Chloe out of the car as quickly as possible. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes had lost the drunken glaze from outside the club. Her footsteps were more controlled as she led me into the apartment building, and the swaying was barely noticeable now. The giggles were gone too. The short walk to the elevator was quiet, and her hands shook when she jabbed the button for the third floor. She faced me with wide, unblinking eyes that couldn’t hide the nervousness she suddenly felt. It was painfully obvious that this wasn’t a common occurrence for her, making my accomplishment all the more sweet. She remained silent and fidgeted with her coat, probably a nervous habit she’s developed over the years. It was an adorable sight, but I wasn’t in the mood for adorable. The doors opened and in no time she was opening the front door of her apartment. I wasn’t about to let her insecurity ruin the night for me, so I pulled her body against mine and kissed her before she could open her mouth. She gasped in surprise, her hands flying to my chest on instinct but she didn’t put up any resistance.  
  
It wasn’t the same gentle kiss from earlier. I was aching to get things moving along as quickly as possible and it showed. I was calm earlier, but now that I was so close to the end I couldn’t hold back anymore. My hands started to work on their own accord, finding their way to her coat and taking it off her. She broke the kiss when the coat fell to the ground, her chest heaving from the force of her breathing. She was shaking like a leaf but I was certain that it was more from desire than nerves.  
  
“Can you just…excuse me for second?”  
  
Her voice was low and husky, and her warm breath against the side of my neck sent a shiver down my spine. I nodded in agreement, unwrapped my arms from her waist and watched her scurry off to what I assume was the bathroom. I took the opportunity to finally look at the place. The sitting room was a wide, open room with plenty of space. It was sparsely decorated, with a couple of frames pictures on the TV cabinet and a lush, soft looking rug beside the frosted glass coffee table. There was an impressive DVD collection that immediately drew my attention and got the best of my curiosity. I could see the DVDs were grouped, presumably by ownership since there was no particular order to them. The top shelf had no more than ten DVDs on it, which were all chick flicks I had thankfully never watched. The shelf underneath looked a bit better, with a couple of decent films thrown into the mix, and the box set of Buffy. The other six shelves were packed to maximum capacity, and I had to admit that it was an impressive collection. Star Wars and the TV show OZ box set was squished in beside The Sopranos and Heroes and there were a few questionable choices like Mean Girls and The Notebook, but overall it was extensive and of decent quality. I saw a few movies I had never seen before and I made a mental note to check them out some time. I was engrossed in the collection, pulling out a few random DVDs to inspect the packaging. I didn’t hear Chloe come back into the room. I jumped when she let out a gentle ‘hey’, and in fright I dropped the DVD in my hand.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” she giggled nervously. She had taken her shoes off, revealing her short stature. The makeup that had been a little worse for wear earlier was now completely off, revealing a light dusting of freckles on her cheeks on an otherwise clear complexion. It wasn’t a shocking difference; it just made her look younger and more innocent. Her smile did nothing to hide the tension she felt. It was coming off her in waves, along with her anxiety. I knew I could just dive straight in but, I wanted to savour the fact that I was here a little bit.  
  
“Impressive collection you’ve got here.” I picked up the fallen DVD, which was a TV show titled ‘Profit’.  
  
“Thanks. Most of it is mine. I had way too much time on my hands in college.”  
  
“At least you put it to good use, for the most part. I’ve never heard of this one before, is it any good?”  
  
“It’s really good. The guy from Heroes is in it, the one who plays Nathan Petrelli. It got cancelled after its first season unfortunately.”  
  
“I’ll have to pick up a copy of it.”  
  
I put the DVD back where I got it from, and turned my attention back to Chloe. She was staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to make the first move. I obliged her by pulling her closer to me and wrapping my arms around her waist again. Moving her long hair out of the way, I kissed the curve of her jaw. She let out a quiet groan, her hands fisting the bottom of my shirt.  
  
“Maybe you should give me a tour?” I nudged her in the right direction. I was getting a little bored of the game by now.  
  
She didn’t answer. Instead, she took my hand with an almost painful grip and rushed us out of the room and down the hall, taking me into through the last door on the right. The only sliver of light that came into the room was from a little gap in the curtains, but it was enough for me to see what I was doing. The blue dress that covered her figure was off within seconds. I ignored the blush that crept over her pale face as I raked my eyes over her. She was curvy in the best way. She kept herself in shape, or at least took of what she ate without over doing it. Her stomach was quite flat, although even in the dark I could tell that it hadn’t always been that way. I could see the little silver marks from a time when she had a fuller figure. It didn’t bother me at all. In high school I was far from slim and I had stretch marks of my own on my stomach and hips, although they had faded and were now unnoticeable unless you looked for them. Her breasts were barely contained in the blue lacy bra that covered them. They were a good size, a little more than a handful I imagined. I took the obstructive material off along with the matching panties before pushing her onto the bed, all thoughts of gentleness gone from my mind. Her eyes were wide form the suddenness of my actions, but she didn’t say anything about it. She pushed herself further up the bed and propped herself up on her elbows. Her breathing was erratic as she watched me strip my shirt off, quickly followed by my jeans, boxers, shoes and socks. I crawled on the bed and pushed her flat on her back. I slipped my hand inside her underwear and found she was already wet. She moaned and bucked her hips, her brown eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. I quickly removed it and sat up, enjoying the confused look on her face.  
  
“On your hands and knees” I ordered.  
  
She wanted to argue with it. She was slightly offended by the sudden change from gentle persuasion to outright demanding. I could see the thought process going through her mind right now, which were along the lines of ‘what the hell?’ and ‘I’m not a fucking whore’.  
  
“Don’t make me say it again” I warned, not even contemplating trying to cajole her. I had spent the last few hours warming her up, and I wasn’t going to waste another minute of my time on foreplay, not when it wasn’t already necessary. She was already wet and ready to go, and I was hard as a rock the minute her dress had come off. Her eyes narrowed, but she was too far gone to consider telling me to get out. She did as I asked, and waited for me while I pulled a condom out of my wallet and out it on. I didn’t give her any warning before entering her, but the loud moan that came from her let me know she didn’t mind. I started hard and fast, going at a pace that suited me for once. Her moans didn’t stop the entire time I was in her, and it was all I needed to keep me going. It was all a blur of sensations as I kept up the relentless pace, desperate to find the release I’d be denied earlier. Her moans mixed with mine to the point where I couldn't decipher which was which. When I came, it took all the air out of my lungs along with my strength. I collapsed on top of her, panting for air and barely aware of the fact I was crushing her under my weight. The haze cleared after a few seconds and I pulled myself off and out of her before I suffocated her. I took the condom off and tied the end of it, throwing it on the floor aimlessly.  
  
“Fuck, I didn’t realise how much I need that.”  
  
I chuckled at her breathless words and joined her under the duvet. She curled up against my side, throwing an arm over my chest and letting out a long sigh. I debated for a millisecond whether it was wise for me to stay or not, but the need to sleep was too overwhelming and I was out within seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Ahead!

*Chloe POV*  
  
It was the intense heat that woke me up, or maybe the pounding headache that threatened to crack my skull wide open. Another possibility was the knot of nausea that rested uncomfortably in the lowest pit of my stomach, an instant horrible reminder that I had consumed far too much alcohol the night before. My skin was boiling and sticky with sweat, and I was only vaguely aware of the fact that I was naked. I couldn’t process anything as I lay there, praying for death to come swiftly and relieve me from the agony that I had inflicted upon myself. My mind was blissfully blank and thankfully free from any potential embarrassing memories of the night before. I could only hope that the girls had ensured I hadn’t done anything I would regret. I attempted to open my eyes, but the effort required seemed to exceed the amount my body was willing to use. Other than the headache and mild nausea it wasn’t too unpleasant lying there, letting life and time float by without any effort to do something with it. I spent my work days ensuring that every second of the day was accounted for, and I never let myself be idle. It was the devil's trap; idleness led to laziness, which led to a downward spiral into apathy. That was something I refused to let into my work life. I was too good at what I did to let it be the thing that brought me down. My weekends, though, that was a different matter. I was always more than happy to let them pass me by in a haze of laziness and effortless lounging in the sitting room in front of the large flat screen TV if nothing needed to be done. This weekend was one of those weekends where nobody was demanding my time, and I was free to be left to my own devices. I loved those weekends. They were far and few between, and I cherished them greedily. I really hoped the girls would be out with their respective other halves today so I could suffer my hangover in peace.  
  
A soft groan reached my ears, tired sounding and not at all happy to be awake at whatever hour it was. Two seconds later, I realised that the sigh didn’t come from me. Adrenaline shot through my system, forcing my eyes open and my body shot up straight in fright. On the other side of the bed, a raven haired man was waking up, rubbing a large hand over his eyes. The sheets were laying low across his stomach, exposing his chest. No wonder I had woken up naked and aching. I shut my eyes in concentration, blocking out all light in an effort to force my forgotten memories to come back.  _Who the hell was this guy? His name was old fashioned, I remembered that…Gerald…something like that. How the hell did we get back here? I had no memories after the first round of cocktails were devoured. Did he approach me, and did I flirt with him? Shit, please tell me he didn’t slip something into my drink. Then again, if he did I’m certain he wouldn’t still be here. What the hell happened to my ‘I’m not having sex with anyone’ dogma I’d been sticking to for so long? I had to give the guy credit for somehow managing to achieve a goal I believed no man would ever conquer. He must have fed me some really good lines. Or maybe drunk me was just desperate to get some that she let her standards drop._  Admittedly, underneath the slight ache my body felt a lot more satisfied than it had in a long time. I felt a bit betrayed by drunk me. We were normally on the same page in our anti-man vendetta I had going all these years. I took another look at the man taking up space in my bed, and I was thankful that at least drunk me had the decency to pick a  _really_ hot guy to take home. His hair was longish and dark, two of my favourite things in a guy. He seemed to be in pretty good shape too, and I begrudgingly acknowledged a little bit of pride that I somehow managed to pull a guy so hot. That must mean that his deficit lied elsewhere, and I blushed at the sudden curiosity to see how well endowed he was. He opened his eyes the minute the thought flooded my mind, drawing a deeper blush from me. He smiled, and, oh my god, I thought I found the reason why I was so willing to jump into bed with him. I could see his eyes were a beautiful hazel colour, and I was so jealous of them it was unreal. They stood out against his dark eyelashes, which any woman would love to have.  
  
“Morning” he croaked, not at all embarrassed to be in my bed. Unlike me, who was beyond mortified that I was stuck in this situation.  
  
“Hey” My voice sounded sheepish from my state of embarrassment.  
  
He chuckled, and I could tell this guy was an arrogant asshole just from his laugh. He sounded far too self-satisfied, and I remembered exactly why I had swore off guys for so long. He got what he wanted, boosted his ego, and now the best I could hope for was that he would at least be somewhat complementary when he bragged to his friends about getting laid. Any pride I’d felt at drunk me’s choice of men vanished the second I heard that laugh.  
  
“You’re a lot more quiet when you’re sober” he remarked, his smile playful. This guy was far from hungover, and it roused my suspicions immediately.  
  
“Sober is debatable. Hungover is closer to the mark.” I mumbled, wishing this guy would just get up and make his awkward exit already.  
  
“Drinking pitchers of daiquiris can do that” he teased, and I was stunned at how relaxed this guy was. This was one of those situations that should have been awkward and tense as hell, with him dying to flee before I woke up. Instead, he was lying on my bed like it was his, and I wondered where he got his confidence from.  
  
“That’s explains you being here, then” I didn’t bother to sugar coat my annoyance at his continuing presence, especially not if he was going to remind me of just how low I had sunk the previous night. I was pissed that my so called friends let me get myself into such a state. They should have looked after me, but no, instead they let me drink myself into oblivion and jump into bed with the first guy who batted his (amazingly pretty) eyelashes.  _How could they have let this happen?_  
  
“Ouch. The ice queen returns.”  
  
Growing up in a house with three brothers taught me a few things. First, every nice guy has the ability to be a jerk, no matter how well raised he was. Second, always look over your shoulder, especially when you think you’re invincible. Someone will always be out to get you. Third, in a rough house, where people are prone to wailing on each other, without warning, always be willing to retaliate. The third one had been drilled into me, so it was no surprise that my instinct was to react to this guy’s insult by physically lashing out. Of course, he was far more alert than I was, and he had no trouble catching my wrist in a strong grip and pinning me down on the bed before I could defend myself. I scowled at his towering form over me. He didn’t seem angry at me, instead he just grinned down at me.  
  
“You really are a fiery redhead” he giggled.  
  
I didn’t anticipate his next move, which was to lean down and kiss me. I blamed my lack of resistance on the suddenness of his action, not on the fact that he was a damn good kisser. Now that he was on top of me, flush against me, with a case of morning wood, I could feel just how big he was, and it was enough to turn me on straight away. Part of me felt weak for giving in, but he was right there, and since I’d already let myself down the night before, I supposed doing it again wasn’t going to make the situation any worse. So I let him trail a path down my chest with his lips, and I revelled in the attention he paid to my breasts. He didn’t stop there, though; he continued to go lower, down my stomach until he was in between my legs.  
  
“You’re not so mouthy now, are you?” he teased, raising an eyebrow at my now panting and writing form. I was going to make some kind of remark, but his tongue lapping at my clit stopped me in my tracks. This guy, as annoying, arrogant and cocky as he was, was damn good with his tongue. I was a fucking mess of sensation while he worked his tongue in ways I didn’t think were possible. He knew just how much pressure to apply, when to apply it, and when I could take more. If my hearing had been working properly I would have been aware of the fact that I was being way too loud. I couldn’t help it,though; everything this guy was doing was just too damn good. I was pretty certain I whined when he stopped just when I was on the brink of an epic orgasm. He left me cold and frustrated while he leaned over the side of the bed, searching for a condom. It felt like an eternity until he climbed over me again, and he wasted no time entering me with one sharp thrust. I was more than ready for it, though; and, to be honest, I couldn’t do much more than cling to him and let him do whatever it was that he wanted. He didn’t rush the experience, he took his sweet time with me, and I loved every single second of it. I could feel his hot breathe on my neck the entire time, and his moans were the sexiest thing that I had ever heard in my life. I was on fire, and the temperature only rose with every thrust. When I eventually came, it was so intense that I couldn’t even remember my own name. He finished quite quickly after that, groaning before he collapsed on top of me.  
  
I didn’t even try to push him off me after it; I was so drained and relaxed, even a fire breaking out couldn’t have made me move. He eventually rolled off me, taking the condom off and tying the end of it. He dropped in on the floor, and if I was able to form a coherent sentence I would have said something. I was far too relaxed, though, and I realised that the girls were right about how uptight I’d been. We laid there, side by side in silence for a while, until my stomach growled, desperate for some kind of substance. I didn’t know if I should ask him to leave, or ask him if he wanted some breakfast. Honestly, I wasn’t sure which one I wanted. Part of me wanted to know him better, figure him out so that I could at least say that I knew the guy a little.  
  
“ Would you like some breakfast?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
He didn’t move a muscle, though.He just stayed there while I got up, and threw a shirt on that I used as a nightdress.  
  
“Do you take coffee?”  
  
“Yes, please.”  
  
He finally threw the duvet off, and I decided to leave him while he got dressed.  
  
I was in the kitchen, measuring the coffee out for the coffee maker when the front door opened and Macy appeared seconds later. She had a wide grin on her face when she came in, her excitement palpable by the way she was bouncing on her feet eagerly.  
  
“So, how was last night after we left?”  
  
I tried to frown, but it didn’t work. Instead a matching grin appeared, and Macy squealed.  
  
“So, how was Gerard? I heard he’s amazing!” The words tumbled from her mouth.  
  
This time, I did frown, confused as fuck.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Her face fell, finally realising that she had said something she shouldn’t have. She had a guilty look on her face, and I immediately sensed something was up.  
  
“Oh ,nothing. Don’t mind me” she tried to fob me off, but there was no way I was going to let it go.  
  
“Macy” I warned.  
  
She bit her lip, and I knew that nothing good would come out of her mouth.  
  
“Don’t be mad, okay? You just needed to have a good time, and we were only trying to help.”  
  
“Just spill it already” I snapped.  
  
“Gerard…he’s a friend of Claire…Andrea’s boss…” She trailed off, hoping she didn’t have to explain it further. I was about to ask her to delve into more detail, unable to see the link. I knew Claire was a nice woman, who was very successful in her career, to the detriment of her personal life. Then it hit me. I had heard Andrea mention a Gerard before.It came back to me now. He was the prostitute that Claire used on a regular basis. My stomach dropped, and my face flushed in anger.  
  
“I don’t fucking believe you! How could you?” I spluttered, so livid that I could barely utter a coherent sentence.  
  
“Chloe, we didn’t mean any harm by it, and you had a good time, didn’t you?” Macy tried to redeem herself, but I was in no mood to hear it.  
  
“You fucking paid a guy to sleep with me! How can you possibly mean anything good by that? No fucking wonder he was interested!” I hissed.  
  
That was when Gerard made his entrance, wearing last night’s clothes. He sensed that something was wrong the minute he saw my face.  
  
“I think you should go” My voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, but I knew he heard me clearly.  
  
“Is something wrong?” he asked, clearly confused.  
  
“You did what you were paid for, now you can go.”  
  
His face fell, he knew that I knew now.  
  
“Wait, I wasn’t-“  
  
“Thanks for your service, it was top notch, but you really should leave now” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice. I was humiliated and hurt that my friends could sink so low.  
  
Gerard was about to speak again when Macy’s soft voice interrupted him.  
  
“I think you should go” Macy told him, a sympathetic grimace on her face.  
  
Gerard sighed, but he didn’t argue any further. I didn’t watch him turn away and leave; instead I kept my eyes focused on the counter in front of me until I heard the door slam.  
  
“Chloe” Macy pleaded, but I cut her off with a glare.  
  
“Fuck. You. You and Andrea. What kind of friends are you?” I choked out before I abandoned the breakfast I was about to make and ran into the safety of my room, hurling myself onto the bed like a stroppy teenager. I let the tears flow at the realisation that I had been betrayed once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. What's this, another update on Lyra's of my stories? Can this be real? 
> 
> Why yes, it is. I feel inspired recently, and I finally got off my ass and made a chapter plan for all my stories. So I'm hoping that the long promised regular updating shall return now. 
> 
> Comments and feedback are awesome, and inspire me so much so please take a second to say what's on your mind.
> 
> Lyra


	6. Chapter 6

_‘I no its short notice, but ne chance I can c u today?’_

I rolled my eyes at the screen in annoyance. It was five o’clock, I was in my sweat pants lounging on the couch with my sketchpad and the last thing I wanted to do was to leave my apartment, let alone use the energy I would need to do the job. Regina was one of my favourite clients; she rarely pulled stunts like this, and I was pretty sure she’d pay me handsomely for it. She was one of the younger women I gave my services to; I doubted she was older than me. If she was, she certainly didn’t look it. I felt sorry for her; I got the impression the marriage hadn’t been her idea. Her mother was a control freak, apparently, who pressured her daughter into securing a rich husband that would take care of her daughter, and by extension, herself. Regina’s husband must have unexpectedly gone away somewhere, hence the text message that so delightfully lit up my screen. I really wanted to say no. My thumb hovered over the ‘n’ button, begging me to make up some excuse so I could remain at home. Every fibre of my being screamed for me to be left alone in my own company, and I hated arguing with myself. Bills had to be paid, though, and art equipment had to be bought. In the end, I texted Regina back with great reluctance, agreeing to go over to her place at six. It should have given me enough time to shower and make myself presentable enough for the outside world.  I groaned at the thought of moving, cursing Regina for not texting me earlier, before I was in full energy conservation mode. It was a pain the ass, to be honest, but I had nothing else to do, so I had no reason to complain either. I took a look at the sketch on my lap, taking the picture in for the first time since I mindlessly started doodling an hour ago. My eyes widened in surprise when I saw the outline of a familiar female face.

I hated to admit it, but I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt over Chloe. The look on her face when she found out the truth had hurt me, in more ways than one. It wasn’t that I cared about her; it was the fact that she looked down on me for having an unconventional way of paying the bills. It reminded me of the reason why I had to hide what I did from the world. I was a consenting adult, who got paid to have consensual sex with legal adults. It’s one of the oldest professions in the world, and yet people would rather have shit on the bottom of their shoes than be associated with a prostitute. Sure, some people were trafficked and taken advantage of, but I wasn’t one of those people. I had made a conscience, fully informed decision before I went down the path I was currently on. I had college bills to pay, I needed to buy food, and pay for a roof over my head. I wanted to be able to afford the basic necessities in life. So yes, I made the choice to sell a part of myself to women who could afford it. I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I was good in bed; it was one of those things that clicked with me. I had learnt a lot from my first girlfriend, who had been far more experienced than I had been. She had taught me the basics, and encouraged me to be confident in what I was doing. She showed me how to pay attention to the way a person reacts to your touch; if they want more, or if it’s too much. She had been an amazing teacher, and even though I had been on the chubby side, she never made me feel self-conscious about my body. I was lucky to be ‘well equipped’, and I decided to use that to my advantage. I wasn’t hurting anybody, and it was as good a way to earn money as anything else. It took up very little of my time, it wasn’t too much effort, and it afforded me a lifestyle that many would love.

And yes, I’d admit that it had pissed me off when I saw Chloe’s reaction to the fact I was a 'whore'. Deep down, I realised that it was the way any woman would look at me once they found out the truth about what I did for a living. I wasn’t looking for love, necessarily; I was quite happy to be single, but her words reinforced that harsh reality of my situation. It didn’t matter if I fell in love, or if someone fell in love with me, for that matter. Nobody would accept what I did for a living. Monogamy was one of the basic expectations in an exclusive relationship, and something that I couldn’t give. That had never bothered me before; relationships were the furthest thing from my mind. Yet, for some reason, Chloe was the one who made it click in my head that the life I was leading would lead to nothing but loneliness. My college debts had been cleared a year ago, which was the main reason I had started prostitution in the first place. I had money saved, probably enough to pay maybe a few months' rent, if I downsized on my apartment. The problem was that it was too easy to stay in this line of work. It was something that suited me to the ground; I had a lot of downtime to draw any idea that came to mind. I could afford the best equipment, even if I wasn’t using it to further my artistic career. I had no real reason to continue this way, other than it was a hassle to try something else. Regular office hours, sitting in a small stuffy office behind an even smaller desk drawing shit I didn’t like, and constant deadlines over my head sounded worse than death. It was stifling, creatively and professionally. To work in such a rigid, uncreative environment that didn’t allow for individuality to shine through went against everything I stood for. Maybe I could have gotten over it if there had been the slightest bit of room for originality and uniqueness to peek through even just a little bit in a work environment, but those jobs were few and far between, even in the illustration industry. The dream of pitching my own comic was dead and buried long ago. Those were the aspirations of a younger man, who wasn’t so downtrodden and beaten by the real world, that chewed you up and spat you back out, without so much as a please or thank you. Reality was cruel and harsh, something I had come to realise years ago.

I let out a heavy sigh, part of me wondering when exactly the time would come for me to finally do something more with my life. I wasn’t stupid or naïve enough to think that I could do this forever. I was twenty eight years old now, but someday I was going to grow old and unable to keep up the work. In the back of my mind, there was a nagging feeling that maybe I could try breaking into the comic industry again. I had enough material to pitch one of my ideas, and being that bit older might get me taken more seriously. The boyish hopes and dreams I had held all those years ago were still there, dormant and forgotten under layers of cynicism and pessimism. It just seemed like an impossible dream, though; one that might crush me if I couldn’t succeed. The only thing scarier was the fear of being a middle aged man, stacking shelves in a supermarket, because I couldn’t get a job anywhere else. That future was a real possibility, and whenever it occurred to me, it scared me shitless. I was coming closer to a crossroad, where I would have to decide exactly what it was that I was going to do.  There were no easy options, and every single one of them would take time and effort that I didn’t want to waste. Now wasn’t the time to think about it, though. I put my sketchpad aside and dragged my lazy ass into the shower¸ washing away the uncomfortable thoughts before they distracted me. An hour later, I was entering Regina’s home.

“Hey, Gerard! Thanks for coming on such short notice.There was some lastminute meeting George needed to attend in California.”

“Anything for my favourite client,” I gave her my signature smile, loving the little blush that rose on her cheeks.

Regina was beautiful. Her blonde hair was long and perfectly styled, her blue eyes were large and bright, and her soft skin was naturally flawless. She was thin, though, painfully thin, and I was pretty certain she starved herself half the time. She had so little control of her life, but her appearance was one thing she could control to her heart’s content. I wanted to tell her to eat more, but it wasn’t my place, so I kept my mouth shut. Her personal life, and her unhappiness, was not my problem. Not that I didn’t care, because, surprisingly, I did, but I just wasn’t in any sort of position to give my opinion, or voice my concern. I was only here to provide a service. She made a little small talk on the way to the bedroom, clearly raring to go. She stripped me of my shirt the second we stepped foot in the room, and I was swiftly pushed onto the bed and straddled by Regina. Her kisses were rough, full of lust and pure want. Her hips grinded against mine, giving me the needed friction to get it up. She started kissing my neck, her teeth nipping at the skin lightly, when Chloe popped into my mind, unbidden and unwanted. I couldn’t help but remember how different it had been. She had been so undemanding, so eager without dominating. She was the complete opposite of nearly every woman I’d been with, and my brain didn’t want me to forget it. The only thing was that, right now, was _not_ the time to be thinking about her, and how good it felt to be in total control. I clenched my eyes shut, willing the thought of her to disappear before my hard on did. Regina’s hands ran over my torso while her grinding becoming more vigorous. Without warning, I gripped her hips and flipped her onto the bed on her back. She looked bewildered for all of two seconds, before she smiled and giggled. I quicklyretrieved a condom from my jeans, before I tugged them off with my boxers, and discarded them on the floor. Regina pulled off her dress while I rolled the condom on, and I smirked when I saw she hadn’t been wearing any panties under it. Something came over me, and the usual submissive façade vanished. I was inside her within seconds, and her answering moan of pleasure was enough to drive me on.

**********************************************************************

I was completely distracted as I walked down the street, a little disturbed by the sudden lack of control I’d displayed at Regina’s. While she had been more than pleased with my performance, and in fact she paid me more than usual, I wasn’t impressed with myself. I was always in control of my own actions, and I never let my own desire take over like that. It was a once off mistake, one that I would never allow myself to repeat again. I didn’t do the job for my pleasure. My pleasure was an occasional end product, and letting my dick rule the situation was a dangerous road to go down.  I needed to remain focused on the client. I decided to grab a cup of coffee, hoping it would calm my nerves a little.

The coffee shop was quiet, with only a few people sitting in, and one person in the queue in front of me. I wasn’t paying much attention,  or at least, not until a familiar shade of auburn hair came into view at the top of the queue. I did a double take, certain that I was seeing things, but it was indeed Chloe. She was wearing a navy business suit, which hid her amazing curves from view. Her hair was in a low ponytail, which, I had to admit, I disliked right away. Her hair, with its unusual colour, was made to be loose and free. It was a shame to see it constricted. Her back was turned to me, so I assumed she hadn’t noticed me yet. I could only imagine her reaction when she did. I could just see her chucking her scalding coffee at me, her head held high, and that snide smirk of hers on her face; the one she gave me when she was insulting me back in the club. No doubt there’d be some more insults thrown, or maybe she’d be happy with a glare and public humiliation. For a split second, I wondered if I should leave before she saw me, but I quickly dismissed it. I had no reason to run away; I did nothing wrong, and I wasn’t going to let a misunderstanding keep me from getting my much needed coffee. She was dismissed to the side counter to wait for her coffee. I approached the counter, and made my order. Before I even finished, I could feel her eyes on me, and the heat from the glare she was aiming at me.

I finally looked at her, and I was surprised to see how upset she was. I expected anger, maybe embarrassment, but not hurt. I even swore there were tears in her eyes, but I couldn’t be certain when she kept them fixed on the counter. I wasn’t sure how to respond; _should I talk to her, or leave her be?_ The idea of not saying anything didn’t sit comfortably with me, for a reason I couldn’t explain. I felt a need to apologise or something, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was a one night stand, and there were no promises of anything more. Also, she was the one who kicked me out without as much as a goodbye. I decided to bite the bullet, and see how the situation would pan out. It could have either gone better than expected, or it could have been as humiliating as I had anticipated. I stood beside her, curious to see if she’d make the first move. She was rigid, and refusing to acknowledge my proximity. I stood close by, just to be an asshole, because if I was being honest, I wanted to push her into a reaction of some kind, good or bad. And, yeah, okay, I wanted to see if she smelled like I remembered (which, yes, she did).

“I don’t even get a 'hello'?”

“No, but you can get a 'fuck off', if you’d like.”

Her voice was sickly sweet in contrast to her words, but the spite was more than clear. The chuckle escaped me before I realised what I was doing. It worked, though, and the glare she gave me earlier was nothing compared to the deep loathing being sent in my direction.

“You’ve got a right mouth on ya, don’t ya?” I asked.

“What the fuck is your problem?” She hissed, a little louder than necessary which resulted in a few stares sent in our direction. She flushed in embarrassment, and turned away from me. Our coffees were set down in front of us by an uncomfortable barista, who could sense the tension.

“I don’t think I’m the one with the problem.”

“Of course not. It was just another job for you, wasn’t it? ”

It clicked then in my mind, the reason why she was so hurt. She was still under the impression that I’d been paid for sleeping with her. Surely her friends would have told her the truth, wouldn’t they?  She picked up her coffee with lightening speed, eager to get away from me. I wasn’t going to let her go that easily, at least not if she was under a false impression. I let her leave first, deciding that it was best to take it outside. I followed her out, and quickly walked in step with her.

“You know it wasn’t a job, right? There was no money involved.”

It was funny to watch her step falter, shocked at my revelation. Her eyes were watching me suspiciously, clearly not willing to take my words at face value.

“Did Andrea put you up to this?” She questioned.

“Andrea approached me, yes. She offered to pay me, but I turned it down.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“Why would I lie? Look, it doesn’t matter to me what you believe. But obviously it bothers you, for whatever reason. Even if I was paid, so what?  What difference would it make? You had a good time, and so did I. It’s not a big deal. I don’t know why you got so upset.”

“Do you know what it’s like to not be seen? To not be noticed? Well, I do. I’m one of those girls that fade into the background everywhere I go. I don’t normally mind, because I’m not looking for a relationship, and frankly I’m happy to be single and unseen. But that doesn’t mean I’m fucking immune to the fact that I’m not worthy to be seen. So, yes, of course it fucking hurts to think that the first time a guy shows interest in me, he’s been fucking _paid_ to fuck me. Of course, Andrea doesn’t think about that. She just saw a problem, and went a really shitty way about trying to fix it. I know it’s not your fault, you got offered a job, you took it. But if this is Andrea’s way of getting me to talk to her again, tell her to drop it.”

She looked so broken, standing there spilling her guts, and I felt this weird flip in my stomach. It was uncomfortable to watch, and, oddly, I wanted to comfort her in some way.

“Look, I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t get paid. I was more than happy to go with you. Can I give you a bit of advice? You’re gonna stay in the background if you don’t put yourself out there. You’re a pretty girl, you’re funny when you’re not biting someone’s head off, and you’ve got an awesome taste in movies, but nobody will see any of that if you hide behind a scowl the second someone approaches you. Open yourself up a bit more.”

Her expression remained guarded during my spiel, but I could tell that what I’d said had an effect on her. Her eyes were glassy, but she didn’t respond. She just stared at the ground, probably dying to escape. Something was telling me to reach out, probably the same part of me that made me sketch her. I let out a little sigh and dug out my wallet before pulling a card out.

“You’re a nice girl, Chloe. And, if the circumstances were different, I really think we could be friends, at the very least. Here’s my number, if you ever just…I dunno, want to grab a coffee or something, give me a call.”

I handed her the card, which she tookwith a shaking hand. I gave her a quick nod, before I decided to leave her before she started to cry. The ball was in her court now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys,
> 
> Another update for you guys, 'cos you're awesome. 
> 
> Lyra


	7. Chapter 7

“Chloe, please don’t be like this. I know you’re still angry, but it’s our last night living together. Is this really how you want to remember our last night as roommates?”

Andrea was pleading with me, yet again. It was Friday night, which also happened to be our last night living in the apartment we’d occupied for what seemed like forever. They were moving in with their boyfriends, while I was getting my own apartment in the same building, but I was taking a two bedroom apartment a couple of floors down. It was only costing me slightly more rent-wise, since the new apartment was a lot smaller, and I would have the luxury of my own space. There had been a one bedroom place available as well, but I’d decided to be cautious, on the off chance I decided that I missed having a roommate. I couldn’t see it happening, since I was probably the most anti-social person in existence, but stranger things had happened.  Anyway, it would be nice to have the extra space, in case anyone ever needed a place to stay, or my parents came to visit. I was in the kitchen, fixing myself a glass of wine and pretending to ignore Andrea’s big doe eyes, and Macy’s irritated glare from the sitting room, where ‘ Crazy, Stupid, Love’ was playing on the DVD player. I hadn’t talked to Andrea since I had confronted her over her trying to pay Gerard to sleep with me. I believed him, and Andrea, when they said no money had been exchanged, which had helped ease the anger I felt towards the two of them. However, Andrea had yet to admit that what she had done was out of order, so I was still refusing to talk to her. Yes, I knew it was childish, and probably a bit harsh when I knew she meant no real malice behind it, but I wasn’t going to let her get away with it without her acknowledging that it was a shitty thing to do to her friend. I had waited to see if she would realise what my problem was, but for someone who was so highly educated and intelligent, she really had difficulty when it came to admitting she was in the wrong. She was right about one thing, though; this wasn’t how I wanted our last night together to be. I decided to give her a little nudge in the right direction, or a big fucking shove, depending on your point of view.

“You know, maybe if you would just say that you're sorry, instead of justifying what you did, I wouldn’t be so pissed at you,” I arched an eyebrow at her challengingly, curious to see if she would be as offended as I imagined. I was right; her face fell, with a slightly unpleasant curve to her lips.

“C’mon, Chloe, it’s not-“

“For fuck's sake, Andrea, just say you’re sorry, and get it over and done with. Ryan Gosling is taking off his shirt, and the two of you yapping is distracting me.”

Andrea sighed, defeated and tired.

“Fine. Chloe, I’m sorry for trying to hire a good looking, amazing, sexy and well hung guy to screw your brains out. I’m a horrible friend, andacted terribly.”

The sarcasm was heavy, but I ignored it, and took her words at face value.

“Apology accepted.”

I walked out of the kitchen, wine glass in hand and, a smug look plastered on my face. I sat down beside Macy without a word, getting right into admiring Ryan Gosling’s amazing abs on the screen.

The next day was a drag. I had spent most of the day packing, moving and unpacking. I didn’t own a lot, or at least I didn’t think I did, until I had to lug it around. Or well, some of it. Gary (Andre’s boyfriend) had been nice enough to carry some of the bigger boxes for me before the moving van came for Andrea’s stuff. I thought it would only take me an hour to get everything out of their boxes and put away, but I realised that I actually had to buy some stuff; like pots, pans and other little knick knacks to get the place looking a bit more like home. So, it was with heavy feet, and a slight headache, that I forced myself to go out the nearest Wallmart, where I got everything I needed. I didn’t mind browsing the store too much when I got there. I actually kind of enjoyed it, picking out the things that I liked without consideration for other people’s taste. It was strange, having autonomy over the look of the apartment. I could cover the walls in Star Wars posters, leave my shit lying around the place for days on end, and put whatever other ‘geeky’ stuff I wanted out on display. I just picked up a few lamps for the sitting room and bedroom, pots and pans, so I could cook for myself, a coffee maker for my morning caffeine hit, and a few photo frames and generic photographs, and paintings to hang up and display, so the apartment wasn’t so bare looking. My wandering eye kept me in the store for two hours, and put a dent in my bank balance when I finally left. It then took me another few hours to get everything in its final place, and by the time it was seven o’clock, I was exhausted by all the strenuous physical activities of the day. All I wanted was to curl up on the couch and sleep the evening away, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep past three a.m, and then I’d be up for the rest of night. I knew I needed coffee to perk me up for just a little longer, even just until ten o’clock, so that I’d sleep until a reasonable hour. I was afraid of sitting down, very aware that I would only doze off the minute my ass hit the couch, even with a steaming cup of coffee in my hands. I had no roommates to keep me up with their incessant chattering now, so it was up to me to find another way to stay awake. I eventually settled on going out for a walk, and grabbing a coffee on my travels. The fresh air and caffeine would be a good combination to keep me going, for a few hours at least. I double-checked I had my keys, suddenly afraid of leaving them behind, now that there would be nobody else to let me in, and shut the door behind me.

I took a familiar path to the closest Starbucks, with no thoughts other than what kind of coffee to choose. Should I go hardcore with a black Americano, or go hipster with whatever flavoured frappuccino I saw first on the board. It was a difficult choice; the Americano would definitely do the job of keeping me awake, especially if I asked for an extra shot of espresso in it. On the other hand, I was craving something slightly sweet, and since sweets were my enemy, frappuccinos would be a good second choice. Life could be full of difficult questions sometimes, and this was one of them. When I finally stepped inside the coffee lovers' paradise, I was still no closer to my decision, which I supposed was down to my indecisive nature when it came to choosing food and drink. There was always a nicer, more tempting offer, which would clog my arteries or erode my teeth, but, by God, was it so much nicer to have. In order to lose weight, I had learned to stop seeing choices, when it came to stuff like that, and only see the healthier option. Normally, I was quite good at sticking to it, but I was tired and out of sorts, and the healthier, less sugary and less fattening Americano just didn’t seem as comforting as the creamy, delicious caramel frappuccino. I was okay to have a treat every once in a while, or at least that’s what I was telling myself.  I’d go for a jog the next day to make up for it. A jog would cancel out the sugar overload. I ordered my venti frappuccino, only feeling a little bit of guilt under the impending gratification I was about to receive.

“You know, I’m starting to wonder if you’re following me.”

I recognised that voice instantly. There was no way I could forget it. It had been in my mind more often than I cared to admit, along with an image of his pretty face. I felt a shiver run up my spine, a mix of excitement and fear. I looked around, and there Gerard was, in all his glory. The ever present smirk was there, of course, though his hazel eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He wasn’t as dressed up this time, though, wearing a casual blue zip-up hoody and a pair of loose jeans. He was pretty…ordinary, when he wasn’t wearing the tightest jeans ever made and dressy shirts. He obviously wasn’t working, or maybe he was just finished for the day. I found myself wondering what it was he did when he wasn’t going from woman to woman, screwing their brains, and their wallets. Honestly, I wouldn’t have even looked twice at him if I didn’t know who, and what, he was. Nobody was gawking at him, or blushing at the sight of him in his jeans that left nothing to the imagination. He was far less intimidating like this, and I didn’t feel like such an unattractive slob standing next to him.

“I think it’s the other way around. It’s getting a little creepy at this stage.” I retorted, feeling more confident now, or maybe just comfortable, either was possible.

“Is this civil conversation I hear? Hell does freeze over.”

I was about to snap, ready to tear him down with vicious words, when I saw the smirk on his face. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me as embarrassment sneaked its way to my cheeks, flushing them with colour. I was too easy to rile up, something that would appeal to a person who lived by their baser instincts, like Gerard.  He enjoyed getting a reaction out of me, and it was about time I stopped giving it to him.

“Strangers things have happened,” I reply coolly.

“Indeed. Is your friend still alive after you got your kitty claws into her?” he teased, not letting go of his favourite pastime that easily.

I couldn’t help myself, I really couldn’t, “Afraid you might lose a potential client?”

“You know me so well.”

His smirk never faltered, even when the conversation was interrupted by the barista who handed him his coffee. I could see my frappuccino was still being made, though it was almost ready.

“So,” he turned to face me, lifting his glasses from his eyes to sit on top of his head, pushing his hair back in the process, “What are you doing this fine Saturday evening?”

“Getting acquainted with my new couch, in my new apartment, by spazzing out on it for the night. Moving’s a bitch.”

“Want some company?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised by how straightforward he was; it was nothing new. It still caught me off guard, though, making me feel a little flustered. I wasn’t sure what kind of ‘company’ he meant. He had mentioned something about hanging out before, surely that’s all he meant now. He could see the conflict on my face, and let out a little giggle.

“ Nothing untoward, I promise. You’ve got that special edition The Dark Night Rises, right?”

“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?”

“Me.”

“How sad,” I mocked, grabbing my frappuccino, “As a Batman fan, I simply couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t force you to watch it with me. Try anything, and you’re dead, though.” I warned with narrowed eyes before leading the way out of the shop.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you think I’m a man whore.”

 “You said it, not me,” I shrugged, taking a sip of my delicious coffee, and deciding it was so worth the empty calories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> hope you're all still enjoying this. Things will start picking up in a chapter or two, I promise!
> 
> Lyra


	8. Chapter 8

*Gerard POV*

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“You better believe it,” I smirked.

“You got any other great achievements?” her eyebrows were raised and her perfect white teeth were on show. Our coffees were long discarded by now, and instead, we each cradled a glass of white wine.

“You mean other than my amazing sex skills? Let me think…oh, I did win an Oreo box stacking competition once.”

“What?” she giggled, her auburn hair falling over her shoulders in waves.

“Yup.  I won a bike and everything. You really should feel honoured to be in such amazing company.”

“Oh, please! I won an all state hot dog eating competition. Beat that.”

“God, you’re so competitive.” I glared playfully.

“And I’m proud of it.”

That much was obvious.

“That must be why your roommates abandoned you then.”

Her face fell for a second, her lips parted in an ‘o’ shape.

“I take that back. It was your witty sarcasm, ability to pick out people’s flaws and general anti-social-ness that did it,” I continued, and as I anticipated, I promptly received a slug to my arm that was surprisingly painful, in spite of the half bottle of wine I’d consumed. The girl knew how to pack a punch, something I didn’t account for.

“Prick,” she muttered darkly.

“How the hell did you learn to punch like that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I’ve got three brothers. Learning how to hit a proper punch and kick a guy in the balls was necessary for survival. It was dog eat dog in my house.”

“Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Damn right. Once I kicked my brother so hard he nearly lost a testicle. He was in hospital and everything. Prick never laid a hand on me again.”

“Shit, poor guy.”

“Nah, the douche was trying to give me a wedgie. I only wish I’d hit him harder.”

“What a charming childhood you had.”

“I know, right? And I wonder why I hate men.”

I giggled at her light tone and watched her down the last of her wine. My own glass was nearly empty, and with one sip I followed her lead. The movie had finished a while ago, both of us too lost in our conversation to notice. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what had driven me to invite myself around the way I did. I was free for the evening, and the idea of wasting it alone, like I did so many other evenings, wasn’t pleasant. I’d been debating whether I should call my brother, or Frank, to see who was free to hang out. Neither of them were appealing options, really, but they were the only ones I could see. Until I saw Chloe, and decided to force my company on her on a whim. I don’t know what I expected, perhaps some playful banter, or just a wasted evening in someone else’s company. Fortunately, I got the former, and Chloe’s dry, sarcastic wit had made it a worthwhile venture.

“On that note, I’ll go, before you turn violent and deprive me of my livelihood in a fit of anger.” I stood up, grabbing the coat I’d strewn over the back of the couch.

“Aw, are you scared of little old me?” she teased.

“Terrified,” I retorted, patting my pockets to find my oh-so beloved packet of cigarettes.

“I feel like I should be flattered.”

“I don’t know, I’m scared of  lots of things, so I wouldn’t feel too special.”

“Damn, there goes my self esteem.” She sighed dramatically.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone you can shred with words to make yourself feel better.”

“Ha ha ha.”

“I note your lack of denial.”

“Good for you.”

“Well, it was a pleasure to be in your company, as always.”

“Wish I could say the same,” she smirked, walking me to the door.

“You wound me,” I clutch my hand to my chest.

“And yet we both know you’ll come back for more.”

“But of course, who else could tear my ego down with your finesse?”

“Someone has to do it,” she shrugged.

“Well, you have my number, feel free to ring me for your sexual needs any time.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“We’ll see about that,” I grinned, before she shoved me out the door with surprising strength.

“Goodbye, Gerard.”

I waved, and sent a wink her way before making my way out of the building and going home.

**

I ruffled my hair, styling it the way I knew Gillian loved it. I split my clients into two categories: the ones I’m indifferent to, and the ones I barely tolerate. Gillian fell into the latter category. She was beautiful, successful, and unashamed to go after what she wanted. She also happened to be the biggest bitch I ever encountered in my life.

Most of my clients, both the regulars and the occasional random that sought me out, had a certain amount of decorum. We both knew the arrangement, and what it entailed. I was doing a job, and they appreciated it. While I’m sure most of them did indeed look down on me, most of them knew better than to let these thoughts be known; except Gillian. She was a sadist, who enjoyed degrading anyone unfortunate enough to share her bed. She controlled every part of her life, including her sex life,  and dominated everyone in her path in both business and pleasure. It wasn’t surprising that she was single and unable to hold onto a guy. She argued it was confidence, and power. I thought she was just a cunt who needed to crush other people to make up for whatever issues she had from her past. If I could have dropped her, I would, but there were two reasons why I didn’t. First, she was the best paying out of all my clients.  Her only good quality was that she wasn’t stingy with cash. It also ensured that I would come back, no matter what shit came out of her mouth. Secondly, if I were to drop her, I was certain she would ruin my reputation to any prospective client. I relied on word of mouth recommendations to gain new clients, which meant most of my clients knew at least one other person on my list, or knew somebody who knew somebody I serviced. Main point, my reputation was important, and I wouldn’t put it past her to try and destroy me if I took away her only avenue for regular sexual contact. So, I had to shut my mouth and count the minutes until our encounter was over.

I sighed, taking one last glance in the mirror before I left my apartment. She lived in a penthouse apartment not far from me, so she was one of the most convenient clients to reach, if nothing else. It was a fifteen minute walk to reach there, and I spent every one of those minutes bracing myself for the half an hour ahead. Unlike most of my clients, who didn’t require an extra effort to get it up on normal occasions, Gillian’s personality meant I had to imagine myself elsewhere to do the job. I didn’t dread going to her, it was more just a deep-seated loathing towards being anywhere within her vicinity, let alone in her bed. I knocked on her door, ready for the fun to begin.

“About time, Way,” she snapped when she opened the door.

“Lovely to see you too,” I muttered sarcastically.

“Whatever. How about you get your ass in the bedroom, and shut the smart whore mouth of yours. You’re on my time now, don’t forget that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I smiled sweetly, disguising my hatred and making my way to the room I unfortunately knew so well.

When I left forty minutes later, I had an extra two grand in my pocket, and a frazzled head. Like every other client this week, I had zoned out, my mind wondering to the only person who was taking up my thoughts these days. Most of the clients didn’t notice anything was off, or didn’t care, but Chloe being on my mind all the time was only going to lead to bad things in the long run.

**

“Dude, are you okay?”

Mikey, my younger brother, was watching me with shrewd eyes. He was one of the few people who knew what I did for a living. Or, at least, I assume he did. It was never explicitly said, but he was a smart guy, who was more than capable of putting two and two together. He had been in my apartment, he saw my designer clothes, and was aware I had way too much free time on my hands. It was a subject we didn’t talk about, though; I think it was easier for us to brush it under the carpet and pretend it wasn’t an issue. It wasn’t an issue, really, or at least not one that affected Mikey and I’s relationship. He was working for some insurance company, doing his steady nine to five, and happy with his long-term girlfriend. He had a life that suited him to the ground, and it wasn’t one I was particularly envious of. We didn’t talk about work, or our love lives, and it was better off that way.

“I’m fine,” I dismissed, browsing through the comics lined up perfectly in front of me. The one thing I loved about comic book stores was how well the comics were treated, in comparison to the larger book stores, where they were thumbed through and creased before you got your hands on them. Here, customers and prospective buyers were more than likely genuine comic lovers, and they treated the books accordingly.

“Seriously, I can tell something is up. You know you can talk to me,” he added awkwardly.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tried to fob him off, and feigned interest in an old copy of Spiderman.

Mikey sighed, irritated with my deliberate brush off.

“Whatever,” he huffed.

I felt a rare stab of guilt. Mikey was an awesome brother, in many ways. He never pushed or prodded, and he was always there if I needed him. He rarely butted into my business, unless he was genuinely concerned. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to indulge what was going on in my head. I was the older brother, and it felt weird to confide in him about my worries.

“Have you ever had someone stuck in your head, like, all the time, even when you don’t want to think about them?”

Mikey looked up from the comic in his hands, surprised at my sudden willingness to talk.

“As in a girl?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed.

“I suppose. When I first met Stephanie, I thought about her a lot. Part and parcel of being in love, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Love?” I asked incredulously.

“Don’t say it like it’s a dirty word. It’s a perfectly natural human state. We’re driven by our need to procreate, and love is biology’s way of ensuring we continue on our species. So, who’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Never mind,” I muttered, wishing I hadn’t brought it up.

“Aw, c’mon, man. No point in holding out now.”

I glared at him, which he met unflinchingly.

“I don’t know, man. The last thing I want is to get involved with someone, but she just…she gets under my skin, and not necessarily in a good way. Or maybe it is.”

“Aw, one of those love-hate things, huh?”

“Not really. It’s more like…I’m intrigued. I’ve only met her a few times, but she’s…different. I like spending time with her, even though she should piss me off half the time, but she’s actually alright when she’s not being a bitch.”

“Is she hot?”

“I guess.”

“What’s the problem then?”

“I’m not exactly in the position to have a relationship right now, of any kind, and even _if_ I was, she’s not exactly the most male friendly person I’ve met. Her ex was a dick, or something along those lines, so she pretty much hates men. It’s a dead end road.”

“Ah. She’s unattainable. There’s your answer.”

“Huh?”

He looked at me like I was an idiot, before his lips broke into a grin.

“She doesn’t want you, or at least she acts like she doesn’t. She’s unavailable, therefore she’s more desirable.  Simple case of wanting what you can’t have.”

It made sense, I suppose. She was aloof, and hard to break through. She kept people, especially men, at bay. She was afraid of getting hurt, therefore she made it hard work to break through her barrier. I was always fond of challenges.The more impossible it seemed, the better. She had unwittingly appealed to a side of me that I’d forgotten even existed.

“I think you might be right,” I spoke thoughtfully.

Maybe I just needed to sate my curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Just want to say thanks to everyone who reads this. There isn't much feedback though, so I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this, but if you are, thanks. 
> 
> Lyra


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Chloe POV*

*Chloe POV*

Part of me knew it was a bad idea to keep hanging out with Gerard. Somewhere, deep down inside, I knew that it would just lead to trouble in the end. Yet, I just couldn’t help myself. It was quickly becoming a regular habit now, and if I wasn’t careful I was going to find myself going down a one way street to hurt and humiliation in some shape or form. Spending time alone with a member of the opposite sex in a purely platonic sense was something I had never done before, as stupid, pathetic and amateurish as that sounded.  It was strange, forming a new friendship with someone that had seen me naked. I didn’t know if I could ever get over it, if I could get used to being in close proximity to a person who had admittedly given me the best orgasm of my life. In the two weeks since we’d begun hanging out, I began to see why I never made close friendships with the opposite sex.

“Oh, c’mon. Loosen up a little. You need to live sometime, you know.”

I glared at him, my eyes narrowed into nothing more than slits. He didn’t flinch at all, much to my disappointment. He just kept waiting on me to give him the answer he wanted to hear, which I refused to give him.

“I’m quite happy being uptight, thank you. And last time I was drinking with you, you got me into bed.”

“Oh, please!You enjoyed yourself, and you know it.”

“I faked it to save your feelings.”

“Ha!You can’t even say that with any conviction. I know when a woman is having a good time, sugar, and you definitely loved it.”

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t going to admit anything to him. Yes, I did have a good time, an amazing time, actually. This information was for me only, though; I knew Gerard would only rub it in my face if I told him he was the best I’d ever had.

“You tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better about yourself. Anyway, my point stands. I’m not going anywhere with you tonight. I’m sure there are other people you can annoy on a Friday night. Actually, why are you here again? Does my door have a sign saying ‘Gigolos wanted’ or something?”

“Nah, you just smell of desperation, darling. Any guy can smell your sexual frustration from miles away. You can’t blame me for trying to earn a bit more money,” he smirked, and I really wanted to punch him.

“Fuck you!” I hissed, not even amused by the direction this conversation was taking.

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t be like that. You can’t really want to stay stuck in again.”

“I do, actually. I like sitting in. It means I get to avoid people. People suck, ergo I prefer to avoid places, like bars, where people congregate.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. I don’t know why he was so adamant on getting me to go out. I got the feeling that there was a motive behind it, but I had no idea what it was. Maybe he had no friends, and I was the only person who was willing to spend time with him, but somehow I doubted it. I was certain that he had an ulterior motive, and I wasn’t in the mood to find out what it was.  

“But you like alcohol. Your love of alcohol cancels out your hatred of people.”

I scoffed, not at all convinced by his argument. His puppy eyes, though, were something I hadn’t counted on. For once, the egotistical smirk was off his face, and in that moment, he looked…almost charming, in a boyish sort of way. He was quite adorable, and it made my stomach flip in a way I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. It was the kind of flip you feel when you’re falling for someone, and Gerard was the last person I should have been falling for. Sure, he got my sense of humour, and he could take my insults better than anybody else I met. And, yes, he was sexy, and charming, and dark and handsome. But he wasn’t an option. Not that I was looking for someone. I was quite happy to remain single.

“Sorry. Find someone else to make miserable for an evening.”

I was about to close the door in his face. He had turned up minutes earlier, unwarranted and unwanted, knocking on my door. He did look fantastic. His grey jeans were skin tight, leaving noone in doubt of his impressive package. His loose white shirt stood up in stark contrast to his black leather jacket. I wondered if he planned on picking someone up or not, but I quickly pushed such thoughts out of my head. I shouldn’t have been wondering about his love life, or sex life, to be more accurate. I moved to shut the door, when his foot got in the way, stopping me in my tracks. I let out a sound that was a mixture of a growl and a groan.

“C’mon, sugar. We both know you love my company.”

Before I could stop him, he pushed his way inside my apartment with a smirk planted firmly on his lips. I slammed the door shut, pissed off by just how forceful this guy could be. What was it that made him think he could just walk in here and demand my time? Then again, why was I letting him walk in here and demand my time? He was right about me liking his company, as much as I hated to admit it. He made me forget about how uncomfortable I was in my own skin, he didn’t make me feel bad for letting my natural wit shine through. He appreciated my movie and music collection. The things I hated most about myself, he seemed to like. It was nice to feel like I wasn’t an unseen person. I just didn’t want to let it go to my head, and find myself feeling something for a person who could never really be mine, because, let’s face it, Gerard could never be mine. He made a living off of sleeping with women, an issue I could never get over. I could fool myself into letting it go for a while, but it would just come back and chew away at my insides with a vengeance.

“You have half an hour. Wear something nice!” He ordered as he walked into my sitting room, like he owned the place.

“I’m going nowhere. Accept that!” I told him with conviction. I really wasn’t going to go anywhere. I didn’t mind going out with the girls, because we stuck to ourselves, usually went to the same places, and we never got hassled or disturbed, except for the occasional guy interrupting us to hit on Andrea or Macy. Going out with Gerard was guaranteed to be a whole different experience. He was a good looking guy, and I’m certain I would only be abandoned when someone attracted his attention. Maybe he was only using me as bait, to make him more desirable to the drunk females in the bar by appearing to be taken. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I wasn’t a female wingman; not then, not ever.

“I think it’s you who needs to accept that I’m forcing your sexy ass out, whether you want to or not. It’s up to you whether you want to go in your sweatpants and creased t-shirt, or look somewhat decent in public.”

“And, tell me, how are you going to get me out of the apartment?”

“I have my ways. The real question is, do you really want to find out how far I’ll go to get what I want?”

I swallowed hard at his low tone, trying and failing not to shiver at the seductive smirk on his pretty face. I didn’t want him to know how it affected me, though. I couldn’t let him know. He’d just use it against me, like the charismatic son of a bitch he was.

“I dare you to try.”

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to challenge him. One second he was in front of me, pleading and demanding that I give him my time and company. Next, I was being lifted off the ground and hauled over his bony shoulder, which dug into my stomach painfully.

“What the fuck! Put me down!” I squealed, my hand instinctively tightening into a fist, and aiming a punch in between his shoulder blades. He let out a hiss of pain, but his hold on me didn’t loosen one bit. He retaliated by swatting me on the ass, something I didn’t expect. It stung, and the heat that radiated off of my skin wasn’t pleasant in the slightest. A masochist, I was not. I automatically swung my fist at his back again, anger clouded my judgment, and of course I was only repaid with another slap to my ass.

“You’re a fucking prick!” I whined, trying to wriggle out of his hold, which was futile and only encouraged him to increase his hold to a vice-like grip, which was cutting off the circulation to my legs. He ignored my insult, and carried me into my bedroom.

“So, what shall I pick out for you?” He opened my wardrobe with one hand, while the other arm still managed to hold me in place, showing that he was stronger than he appeared. I squirmed and wriggled as much as I could, but it didn’t stop him from rifling through my selection of clothes.

“I refuse to wear anything you pick for me,” I hissed.

“Well, if you just agree to be nice and join me on a wonderful evening out, I’ll put you down and give you a choice of three outfits I pick. I may even buy you a drink, if you promise not to hit me anymore.”

“We both know I can’t promise that” I sighed.

“Fine. Just stop acting like you don’t want to spend an evening in my amazing company in a place where alcohol of every kind is widely available at an extortionate price.”

“I’m picking out my own outfit, and you’re buying my drinks.”

“I have to approve any outfit you wear, and I’ll buy you one drink.”

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“And I always get what I want.”

“We’ve reached an impasse then.”

“Not at all. We both know I’m going to win this.”

“Hell will freeze over first.”

“I can keep you like this all day. We'll see who’ll break first.”

I aimed another clenched first at his back, which loosened his grip slightly from surprise. I then wiggled, gaining a little leverage, and almost slipped out of his grasp. He caught me before I reached the ground, though, our chests pressed together, and our eyes level and our faces way too close together. I could feel my cheeks heating up, because it was impossible not to, when in such close proximity to a beautiful man. His expression was surprisingly unreadable, guarding whatever it was that was going on in his mind. There was the clichéd awkward air, neither one of us certain how to make this less tense. Gerard took charge then, as he always did. Like I always let him, it seemed.

“Now, do you _really_ want to stay in this awkward, but sexually charged, embrace for any longer than necessary, because by all means, I really don’t mind,” he smirked.

“Fine, whatever. Just put me down!”

He finally let me go, my feet touching the ground once more.

“Wear the navy long sleeved top with the white skinny jeans and the navy heels!” he ordered,.

I glared at him, though I had to admit that it was an outfit I may have picked myself. I let out a huff of displeasure, but didn’t utter a word as I grab the aforementioned items of clothing. I turned to face him again, waiting for him to leave. He just stared back at me, deliberately feigning ignorance.

“Get out, so I can dress!”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before!”

“Oh my God, GET OUT!”

He giggled, took a bow, and finally left me alone. I stood still, letting my emotions and hormones calm down before dutifully getting dressed for a night I’m sure I wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.

**

I was drunk. Not quite at the level I was on my last night out, but I was certainly inebriated and uninhibited enough to actually ask a question I’d admittedly wanted to ask for a long time. We had been at the bar for a solid three hours, and it was actually a pleasant few hours. We were getting along in our own way, and Gerard was actually enough of a gentleman to buy the first round. We had spent our time talking about college, and our various experiences. It turned out Gerard was quite the party animal, which didn’t surprise me one bit. Of course, when I told him about my own wild days of weekly four-day benders and regular drug experimentation, I could tell I had shocked him.

“It’s hard to imagine little miss respectability doing something so illegal. You criminal, you should be in prison right now.”

“Oh, are we getting into legality? Tell me, when did taking soliciting money for sex become legal?”

“It’s not my fault I’m so incredibly skilled at pleasing women.”

“How did you get into prostitution?” I blurted out, my curiosity at its breaking point.

He was taken aback by the suddenness of my question, but I didn’t take it back. I was drunk, and deeply curious to find out how he managed to find himself selling himself for money.

“I finished college, and had a hard time finding anything but an internship,” he eventually answered, sounding far more sober now we were having a serious conversation, “I wanted to break into comics, but all the jobs were here in the city, which I couldn’t stay in if I wasn’t getting paid work. If I took a full-time job, I couldn’t take an internship, and I tried part-time,but it wasn’t enough to cover living expenses, never mind my student loans. One day, a good friend of mine from college, told me he’d done it during college to get by, but he had met someone and wanted to get out of it. He gave me the name of an old client, and it spiralled from there.”

“Why are you still doing it, though?” I couldn’t help but prod. I understood his reasoning for making the decision, but I found it hard to figure out why he would continue to live such a deviant lifestyle.

“Money.”

I waited for him to continue, but no further information was given.

“Does it pay that well?”

He smirked, and that was the only answer I needed.

“I make two grand on a quiet week, mostly it’s somewhere between five or six.”

My mouth fell open, gaping in disbelief. When I thought of prostitutes, I never thought of wealth and luxury. What came to mind was small, shitty apartments and poverty. He earned more than I did! I couldn’t wrap my head around it. How had he not saved enough money to get himself out of it? Or did he really enjoy it that much?

I must have spoken the last question out loud, because I got an answer.

“I do enjoy it…most of the time. I get laid on a regular basis, I get a shitload of money for it, and it takes up very little of my time. Why wouldn’t I do it?”

“But don’t you feel used?”

“I could, but I don’t. I do this on my terms. Every job has it’s pros and cons. Sitting behind a desk for nine hours a day suits you, but it’s hell on earth for me. I don’t like having someone breathing down my neck for deadlines; I don’t like not being able to have creative freedom. You sit in a cage all day, bogged down in paperwork, deadlines, and other’s people shit. Me? I get to do what I want. I can draw all day, and I can buy everything I want. I rent a big ass apartment in a swanky apartment complex, because for a few hours of ‘work’, I get paid far more money than working behind a desk ever would. I have a good life, Chloe, and I’m not ashamed of it.”

I felt a little embarrassed by his reply. I was judging him, forming my own preconceptions of his lifestyle, when the truth was that I knew nothing. He lived a life he was happy with, which was more than what most people could say. I felt put in my place, and thoroughly ashamed. It wasn’t for me to question his decisions or force my own moral views on him. In theory, I had no problem with prostitution, if the person willingly goes into it without coercion or fear, and is able to protect themselves.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-” I tried to apologise, but Gerard cut me off with a gentle tone that told me he wasn’t truly angry with me.

“It’s fine. I’m gonna get another round, and when I come back, we’ll forget the conversation ever happened.”

I nodded, giving him a weak smile when he stood up and made his way to the counter and ordered us more beers. I watched him, chewing my bottom lip. It was impossible not to notice the eager glances being thrown in his direction by a group of drunken girls, who looked barely above the legal drinking age, and the old familiar feeling of jealousy licked at my chest. I focused my gaze on the drink in front of me, forcing the feeling away before it got out of hand. I had no reason to feel jealous. I had no claim over Gerard. I ignored the part of me that wished that I had, though, and downed the rest of the drink before Gerard came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is awesome, so please leave some if you can.
> 
> In other news not related to this story, if you've read my stories 'My Way Home' and 'Kids from Yesterday', or planned on doing so I wanted to inform you that these stories have been taken down. I'm rewriting them, as there were lost of mistakes in them. The ending will be changed, as I have plans for a another edition to the series. So, when 'Give 'Em Hell' is finished, I shall start reposting. I really hope you reread it, as like I've said, there will be plot changes.
> 
> Lyra


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerard POV

*Gerard POV*

My plan seemed to be working. Over the short space of time I had gotten to know Chloe, one thing was definitely clear- she only lowered her defences when she was under the influence of alcohol. I had taken Mikey’s words under consideration and decided that my fascination with her was indeed because she made herself unavailable- she tried to discourage me, and it just made it all the more tempting. So, I decided that if I could prove to myself that I could have her again, when she had the full knowledge of whom and what I was, that it would get rid of the need to be in her company so much. I decided there was no harm in trying, anyway- worst case scenario, I would get a good lay. She was now quite plainly drunk, but not to the extent that she was incapacitated or stumbling. She was at that happy stage, where she was still in control of herself, but just not as aware of what was going on around her. She was happily talking away, engrossed in our conversation.

I had to admit, as much as I loved her sarcastic, witty nature, I found this side of her just as pleasing. She was smiling, and her gaze focused on me instead of avoiding eye contact, and her self-consciousness was forgotten. She was being herself, and it was almost adorable to see this free, uninhibited nature. It reminded me of the first night we met, and with that came the memories of when she had taken me back to her place.

“I think I should stop before I get absolutely sloshed. The last thing I need is to embarrass myself,” she informed me when she finished the glass.

“Might be a good idea. I wouldn’t want to have to carry you home again.”

She glared playfully at me.

“You wish.”

She didn’t realise just how right she was. I finished my drink quickly, gulping it down and wiping my mouth. I grabbed my coat off the back of my seat and shrugged it on carelessly, while Chloe made sure she had her bag.

“You ready?”

“Yup,” she smiled, before following me out of the crowded bar. I hailed a taxi, wondering if she would invite me around, or if I would need to broach the subject myself. She didn’t say anything while the taxi pulled up. I decided to bite the bullet and bring it up myself, and face the consequences.

“So, yours or mine?”

I wasn’t sure what to expect. She had been relaxed and chilled most of the night, but that didn’t mean her old self wouldn’t come back with a vengeance with the right, or wrong, words.

“Yours. I wanna see what your place is like!” She spoke excitedly.

I smirked, unable to believe how easy that had been. I wasn’t sure if she knew what I was thinking when she agreed to come back to mine. Sure, we flirted, but it was always in a playful manner, and I suspected she wouldn’t see it as anything other than that. She was far more naïve than she realised, and anyone who managed to break through her tough façade and get a glimpse of the real her, would have an easy job of manipulating her for their own gain. Of course, I was doing that very thing right then, but I wasn’t planning on hurting her. There was no reason why another one nighter would cause friction between us. Even if my plan worked, and my eagerness to be with her waned, I’d still want to hold on to the weird friendship we were developing.

“As you wish,” I said in an obnoxious English accent, and opened the cab door for her. She got in without any problems and I slid in after her, giving the driver my address and relaxing my back against the faux leather upholstery. The journey was thankfully short, and in no time at all we were outside the apartment complex I resided in. She took in the building, which was almost as expensive looking as her own, and seemed to approve. Not that her approval mattered, but it certainly made me feel more at ease for some unknown reason. Maybe it was a male pride thing- every male wanted to impress the opposite sex. I didn’t give her a lot of time to gaze at the building. I gently cupped her bent elbow, and led her inside the complex. I got my keys out of my pocket, which was no small feat when the jeans were practically moulded to my legs like a second skin. This earned a giggle from Chloe, which I pointedly ignored, as it reverberated in the small space of the elevator.

When I opened the door of the apartment and let Chloe inside, I could immediately tell that she was impressed. Her eyes scanned the place with observant intensity, as though trying to fit the puzzle that was me together in a way that made sense to her. I hung my coat up, along with Chloe’s, and made my way into the kitchen while Chloe explored the living area. I searched through my alcohol supply, and contemplated whether I should go for white wine or a can of beer. I decided sticking to beer was a safer option, and with a snap I freed the two cans from their plastic wrapping. I found Chloe snooping through my DVD collection when I came back into the living room, her attention so focused on the DVDs that she didn’t notice me coming in.

“Beer?” I offered, and I smirked when she jumped in fright, hand clutched over her heart.

“Shit!” she gasped, letting out a low breath, before graciously taking the cold metal from my hands.

“Nice collection,” she commented, opening the can and taking a long sip.

“I know. I’ve got a record one too, actually,” I commented, not at all ashamed of the pride I felt over my extensive collection.

“Really?” she asked, sounding enthused at the idea.

“Yeah, it’s in my bedroom.Wanna see?”

Her eyes immediately narrowed, seeing through my innocent offer for the ulterior motive it was.

“Hah. Not a chance in hell,” she muttered darkly, before turning her attention back to the large bookshelf, which also housed a decent book collection.

“Damn, you really have some decent stuff here. You’re a Stephen King fan, I see.”

“Of course. The guy’s a master at what he does.”

“I completely agree. I haven’t read all his stuff, but what I have read, I love.”

“So, shall we watch something?” I tried to change tactics subtly.

I needed to get her relaxed, get her defences a little more lowered. Then, when she was not so suspicious of me, I could make a move.

“Sure. What about Monty Python?”

“Python it is, then.” I pulled the box set off the set and set the television up. We both relaxed on the couch, laughing in synch over the comedic genius that was Monty Python. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed watching it, and it felt good to just mindlessly laugh with a nice can of cold beer. I almost forgot about my plan, I was that relaxed. I was slouched on the couch while Chloe had her shoes off and was cuddled up in a ball, one arm around her bended knees while the other encased her precious beer. She was completely at ease and it was almost a pleasure to see her so calm in my presence.

“You want another?” I asked when my beer ran out.

“I don’t think so. I’ve had too much beer, it doesn’t taste so good anymore.”

“I’ve got wine.”

“What kind?”

“Not sure. Wanna take a look?” I stood up, and offered her a hand to help her off the couch. She took it without hesitation. I didn’t let go of it, and she didn’t try to break the contact as she trailed behind me into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and pulled out one of the bottles I had stored on the inside of the door.

“It’s a Pinot Grigio,” I turned around to show her, and with steady hands she took the bottle from me. She read the label with interest, and gave a murmur of approval.

“Looks good. Where are your glasses?”

“The cupboard above the coffee maker.”

Her bare feet took the few steps needed to get to the press. It was a little bit high up for her, and I couldforesee the difficulty she’d have reaching the wine glasses, which were located on the very top shelf. I suppressed the smirk eager to break free when she opened the press, and sawthat the objects that she was looking for were out of her reach.

“I can’t reach,” she whined childishly, looking at me with a pout that could compete with a five year old's. I smiled indulgently at her, and I decided to put her out of her misery. She watched me approaching, but didn’t move to make way for me to step in front of the cabinet. I was standing right in front of her, and she still didn’t move. She gazed up at me, biting her lip in a way that made me want to pin her against the counter and just fuck her senseless. It was on instinct that I crashed my lips to hers, uncaring if there would be a negative reaction. It was an impulse that couldn’t be denied, and it was worth it to feel just how smooth her lips were against my own. I half expected her to push me away, or protest, or make some sort of sign that she didn’t want it. What I got instead was a little surprised moan, and her hands found their way to my chest, where she pressed her palms flat against my shirt. She didn’t push me away, or break the connection between our lips. She nibbled on my lower lip, and gasped when I nudged her back against the counter, pinning her torso against mine and rocking my crotch against her in desperate need for friction. I took advantage immediately, and slipped my tongue into her hot mouth, sliding against hers and pulling a moan from her throat. There was no conscious thinking when my hands grabbed her hips, rubbing the skin under her top roughly. I continued my tongue’s assault in her mouth, while my hands explored the skin on her torso, and slowly trailed a path towards her breasts. When I cupped her lace covered breast, she let out another little groan, and it was all the provocation I needed to break the kiss so I could pull the top over her head.

 I grabbed her hips again and placed her on top of the counter, placing myself between her legs. I regretted making her wear jeans then, knowing it would have been so much easier if I had had better access. I unclipped the back strap of her bra and quickly got rid of it, throwing it to the floor without any finesse. My lips found their way to her nipples, where they sucked and nibbled with impatience, and the little hoarse breaths that left her mouth only encouraged me further. I pulled the zip on her jeans down, and then unbuttoned the metal that kept them buttoned. I pulled her hips forward, grating my hips to get some much needed friction, and I groaned unashamedly at the sensation. I was forced to take a step back, and with a not too gentle tug, I set Chloe on her feet again. I pulled her jeans down with ease, and like the rest of her clothes they were thrown aside. I pulled my own shirt off, and with a raised eyebrow, I watched Chloe undo my belt and zip with trembling hands. She struggled when she attempted to pull them off my hips, due to how tight they were. I took over, and in what felt like lightening sped, we were both naked and attached at the lips again. Her hand took a hold of my erection, running her hand from tip to base a few times at a leisurely pace. I tugged her hand away, setting her back on top of the counter. My fingers slowly traced their way down to her entrance, finding her already wet. If I had of been less drunk, I might have given her a bit more attention, or driven her to the point where she was begging for release, but I didn’t have it in me to hold back any longer.

I slid into her with one, achingly slow thrust. It was pleasure and pain all at once to go so slow, but hearing the wanton moan I received in response made up for it. I fixated on her facial expressions, loving how her pleasure was just so obvious. Our eyes met, and it was impossible to look away from her brown orbs. It was the most intense moment of my life, and it caused a sensation in my chest that I wasn’t familiar with. I continued with the slow pace, drawing the pleasure out for both of us. Her hands gripped the counter with a vice-like grip, not touching me, but her eyes were on mine the whole time. I felt her begin to tighten around me. I lost my self-control, and with no warning at all, I picked up the pace furiously. She came with a cry and my name on her lips, and I followed soon after, with a strangled groan.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” she asked breathlessly.

“Maybe. Does that bother you?”

“Right now, not really. Ask me again in the morning.”

**

She was still asleep when I woke the next morning. Her petite body had rolled away from our cuddled embrace when we fell asleep, and she was curled into as foetal position near the edge of the bed. There was something very telling about her distance from me, something that was done unconsciously during her sleep. I just lay in bed, unwilling to get up just yet. I had a whole day ahead of me so a few minutes of blissful rest to brace myself for it was not going to wasted. It was a good solid hour before she began to drift back into consciousness. I could see her slight confusion at first when her eyes fluttered opened, trying to piece together why she was in my bed.

“You’re an asshole,” she groaned without real feeling, stretching her body out in an effort to wake up.

“I never denied it.”

She rolled onto her side, facing me. We just stared at each other, not wanting to say anything that would break the pleasant atmosphere. I didn’t want to think about how much I enjoyed having her in my bed, and how amazing it was to wake up next to her. I don’t know why I expected my interest to wane after one more go, but I was obviously wrong. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but I took her silence as a sign that she wasn’t pissed at me.

It was the buzzing of my phone that interrupted our staring contest. I reached over to the nightstand, quickly reading the message. It was from Claire, asking if I could come over earlier than usual. I sent a reply quickly, telling her that I would be there. I dropped the phone back on the nightstand with a sigh. I took a look at Chloe’s face, which had gone from pleasant and relaxed, to hurt and a little angry. She had guessed what had happed somehow, maybe from my expression, and for once I didn’t know what to say to her. All I knew was that this wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few words.

“I should go,” she got up and flew out of the room before I could decide what to do. I thought about stopping her, but I didn’t have the time to figure out what I could do to fix this. I winced when I heard the front door slam, knowing that I had fucked up big time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the smut!
> 
> Lyra


	11. Chapter 11

Chloe POV

 

I was drunk. Actually, drunk was a bit of an understatement. I was completely and utterly off-my-face, embarrassingly intoxicated. It was a stupid move, one I knew might lead to me making a stupid decision, but I had to do it. I was hurt, angry and in need of obliterating the angry jealousy that had wormed its way into my veins, fuelling every negative thought in my mind. It was also a bad idea to call Macy and Andrea to join me on my quest to get drunker than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I wanted to forget about Gerard, and how he effected me, and how he made me feel, and how amazing the sex we had the night before had been, and how much I hated that he was the one thing I wanted, and yet I couldn’t have him. Not completely, anyway. He belonged to anybody who was willing to pay, and the fact that I knew I wouldn’t be enough to change that, that I knew I meant nothing to him but a convenient lay, was soul-crushing and heart wrenching, and it tore me up inside in a way I had never felt before. I wanted to break things, I wanted to stamp my foot in a tantrum, I wanted to scream and shout and act like a toddler, so that I could vent my emotions physically. Too bad I wasn’t a child. I was an adult, who was expected to just deal with hurt and betrayal in a rational manner, to keep it buried deep down inside and internalise it, which was supposedly healthier than venting.

“You know, this is a good thing. Gerard showed you that you actually want to meet someone. You’re finally over the whole thing with he-who-shall-not-be-named. I mean, yeah, it sucks that you fell for a guy who fucks other people for a living, but, you know, the best way to get over a guy is to get under one. There’s a cute blonde standing by the bar that’s been checking you out. Forget about Gerard.”

Macy’s words made sense. I knew she was right, that this was a sign that I was over my dick of an ex, and how he had crushed my confidence. Gerard had made me feel desired again, like I was worth something to someone. I had gained some of my self-confidence back, and I owed Gerard thanks for that. Maybe it was wrong of me to storm out the way I had that morning. I could have been wrong about the nature of the text, but the fact was that I would forever think about what he was doing, and who he was with, if we continued on this friendship, even if we didn’t sleep together again. I was officially in over my head. I had fallen for him in spite of myself, and now I was hurt, yet again.

“More sex won’t fix this.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think it would hurt. You need to stop thinking about him, and the best way to do that is to use another guy as a distraction.”

A distraction was exactly what I needed. The idea should have been completely abhorrent to me, but after five double martinis, it sounded like a good option.

“You’re right. Fuck it! I’ll do it.”

“That’s my girl,” Andrea grinned, giving me a hug, before shoving me in the direction of the guy who had been eyeballing me for the last half an hour. I didn’t stumble as I made a path to the bar, sliding in beside the blonde and waiting for the barman to notice me.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be buying her own drink.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the remark, giggling in delight. What a cheesy pick up line. I could never imagine Gerard using something so generic to get a girl's attention. Gerard wouldn’t have to use pick up lines – he had everybody’s attention without trying. He had this air about him, one that screamed ‘Look at me! I’m sexy as fuck, and you all know it’.

Gerard. Fuck, I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was standing beside a cute guy, who was showing an interest in me and aiming a sexy, adorable smile my way, but Gerard was still in my head. He had been ever since I walked out of his apartment with a wounded pride, and it hit me with a painful throb that he wasn’t going to be leaving my thoughts anytime soon.  Sure, this guy could buy me a drink, maybe take me home and give me a half decent screw, but it wouldn’t really take my mind off of Gerard. This guy could do amazing things to me, and I’d still be thinking about Gerard, and how he would probably do it better. I would lie there and wonder where Gerard was, if he was with a client, if he was having a good time, and if he had forgotten about our tryst already. He was without question the best I'd ever had, but he was so experienced that I doubt I even made his top twenty. I swallowed the bitter taste that was in my mouth, but it didn’t get rid of the aftertaste. I didn’t want to be here beside this guy. I didn’t want him to buy me a drink, and talk to me with insincere words and false flattery, so I could be used once again.

I had to leave. I didn’t even say a word to him before I rushed off, going back to the table and grabbing my coat and bag.

“Chloe?” Andrea asked, confused and concerned over my sudden erratic behaviour.

“I have to go. You two stay, but I just…I have to go,” I pleaded, and they seemed to understand that I meant what I said.

“Get a taxi,” Andrea ordered, and I nodded to show that I had heard and understood. I wasn’t stupid enough to walk alone at night in the city.

I hailed a taxi, giving him my address before sinking into the leather seats sullenly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had avoided meeting men for exactly this reason. They fucked with my head, leaving me reeling and unsteady and not in control of my own emotions. Why couldn’t he leave me alone? Why did he have to force himself on me and make me feel this way? This was his fault. Everything I felt right then was because of him. I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to hurt him and make him regret screwing with me the way he had.

That was what led me to the outside of Gerard’s apartment building. There was no security at the door, and I found his apartment door with ease. I clenched a fist and banged on the door, even though I had no idea if he was there or not. I hadn’t had the forethought to call him. I didn’t want him to be prepared for me. I wanted to catch him unaware, see if he could defend himself when caught by surprise.

He opened the door, his confusion giving way to shock when he saw me standing there.No doubt my face was the picture of the kind of fury only a woman scorned could possess.

“You’re an asshole!” I spat the second I saw his handsome face.

“Nice to see you too, Chloe. Do you want to come in?”

“No, I want to fucking kill you. You’re such a fucking…asshole,” I ranted, not caring that I was standing in the middle of a corridor where anyone could hear or walk by, “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone, huh? I was fucking fine before I met you. Then you just parade into my life, as though you have every fucking right to completely mess with my head, make me feel good about myself, and for what? A fucking ego trip? Is that what I am to you? A fucking toy, so you can feel better about yourself, and what you are? You-”

I was cut off when he yanked me into his apartment, slamming the door behind me and pushing me against it harshly, making me grit my teeth from the sharp sting of contact.

“You’re a mouthy little thing when you’re angry, but I have to admit, storming into my apartment, and making a show of yourself was something I didn’t expect from you. You’ve got your panties in quite a twist, huh? There’s no need for dramatics.If you want to get laid, a phone call would have sufficed.”

When I was younger, and even smaller, hitting wasn’t always practical. I had shorter limbs than my brothers, and in situations where they would pin me down, I had learned another reflex. My foot shot out, aiming for Gerard’s shin, and landed perfectly, and the cuss that came from his mouth was so satisfactory that it brought a smile to my face.

“Fuck!” he yelled, backing away from me with a hobble, rubbing the now bruised area.

I almost felt guilty. I was far too angry, and hurt, and humiliated, and secretly heartbroken to actually feel too bad about it. I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up when I thought about how he was making me feel about myself, how my emotions were all over the place because of him, and how I still wanted him even then, when he was hunched over in pain in front of me. I’m sure the alcohol wasn’t helping either, which only amplified the feelings, rather than numb them. I hadn’t even noticed that the tears had been running down my cheeks until Gerard straightened up, glaring at me briefly before his expression softened into something else. I’d like to think that maybe it was regret, or sadness, but I’ve always been bad at judging people’s expressions.

“Why can’t you be something else?” I whispered, voicing the thought that had been going through my head all day. Why did he have to be a hooker? Why couldn’t he just be a starving artist, or a clerk in a supermarket? Why couldn’t he be _anything_ else, but a man who sold himself to the highest bidder?

“Because I’m not perfect, Chloe. I’ve made mistakes, and I took an easy way out when things got hard. I’ve never had great foresight when it came to the consequences of my actions, and if I had known you were going to come along-“

He stopped himself, afraid that he had said too much. His words didn’t make me feel better; in fact, they only made me feel worse. They alluded to things that might have been, and that maybe his feelings were deeper than I thought. I wanted to believe that as much as the thought pained me. If he did care, it would only make it worse. To know someone cared, that someone truly wanted me, but just not enough to stop screwing other women. Once again, it would be proof that I just wasn’t worth it, that I wasn’t enough, yet again.

“This is all your fault! I was happy with what I had before you came along. Why did you have to change that?”

“Maybe because you did the same thing to me. I can’t think straight anymore when I’m with a client, because all I can think about is you. I think about your smile, and how you sound, and how you’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met. And it kills me to think about you, because you’ll never take me as I am.”

I shook my head.

“Or maybe I’m just not good enough for you to give it up.”

“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it.”

“That’s a fucking excuse. You like what you do, and you don’t want to change that.”

His face went blank, hiding what it was he was thinking. I knew it was a mistake coming, and the conversation wasn’t making me feel better. I wanted to vent, but standing here, watching him watch me with sorrowful eyes, it hurt. It hurt to see how his pupils were a little bigger than normal, and how his iris had a wonderful mix of green and brown flecks, that gave him such a unique and beautiful colour. My chest ached, and all I wanted was for him to wrap his arms around me and make me feel better in the way only he could. He didn’t lie, he didn’t flatter. Every word that came from his mouth was honest. He was the only person who had stuck around when I had tried to push them away. He took my insults and my occasional outburst of violence when he annoyed me. He was perfect in every way for me, except that he was paid to put his dick in other woman.

“I did like it. For a long time, I loved it even. You know how many guys would kill to do what I do? To get paid to have sex for a living, and earn a fucking fortune doing it? I built a good thing for myself, and I’m not going to apologise for it. I had no responsibilities, and nothing to feel guilty about. I looked out for me, and that’s not something I’m going to beat myself up over. You’ve done it in your own way by shutting people out. I never thought I would meet someone who would make me wish I had made a different choice all those years ago, but I did, and if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you, and I don’t regret that either.”

“I just wish I could say the same.”

Then I did feel bad. His face crumbled, dejected, and hurt written across it. My words had hurt more than the kick I had magnificently nailed to his shin. His arrogance was gone, and I think I finally saw him for the first time. He wanted to be wanted too. Not in the way all the other women wanted him, but he wanted to be needed. He wanted to feel like he was worth it, too, just like I did. Right then, I felt like I was in tragedy. We both wanted the same thing, and yet we couldn’t have it.

“Do you really mean that?”

I wanted to say yes, and put the final nail in the coffin that was whatever the hell this was. I could say yes, then walk away, and know that he wouldn’t chase after me this time. The alcohol made me truthful, though. As angry as I was, as hurt as I was, as much as knowing him, and knowing I couldn’t have him killed me, I couldn’t deny that once I looked past the negative, and all the shit that was entailed in this fucked up situation, that I didn’t regret it. I spent years denying that I was a woman with urges, who wanted to meet somebody who could make me feel alive again. Gerard had reawakened the forgotten need for companionship, and affection. Even though there was no way this could go anywhere, and I was only going to leave here with a broken heart, I was starting to realise that I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

“No.”

Then his lips were on mine, and I got lost in it. His lips were so smooth, so hungry for me, and when he slipped his tongue into my mouth, I stopped thinking. I didn’t want to think anymore, or feel anything other than his hands on my hips, which were travelling towards my ass, and pulled me closer to him. So I didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this isn't going to last too much longer...the inital plan was for 15 chapters. It may be a chapter or two longer than anticipated, but I don't plan on dragging this out.
> 
> Feedback is awesome guys, so if you can leave some, please do!
> 
> Lyra


	12. Chapter 12

*Gerard POV*

I woke up before Chloe did, not that I had expected anything else. The girl loved her sleep, that much was obvious by now. I didn’t move from my current position; my chest was pressed tightly against her back, with my arm holding her tiny frame. I also had one hand cupping her breast, which wasn’t a terrible way to wake up. Her breathing was slow and easy, and I found myself just relaxing to the rhythm of it. Inhale, one, two, three, exhale. Her chest would rise gently, then fall, but no sound escaped her. Her long eyelashes were still coated in mascara, though she didn’t really need mascara. I had seen her without makeup, and her eyelashes were naturally long and dark, so the mascara was moot, in my opinion. Maybe she just wanted the world to see that she put some kind of care into how she presented herself. She cared so much about how people perceived her, what people thought about her, and the tough ‘I’m a bitch, deal with it’ exterior, was her way of trying to cope with that. She was weird.She was a little nerdy, but not in the false way I’d seen many a girl try to pull off when I was in art college. She was self sufficient while living in the real world, and I was envious of that. I had taken a road that lead to me living on the sidelines, afraid of revealing who and what I was to the world. What I did to survive wasn’t particularly skilful, and while it was something I had enjoyed for so long, it was now beginning to leave a bitter taste in my mouth after every appointment. Part of me was resentful that she was here right then, forcing me to re-evaluate just how content I was in my life, and the choices I had made.

I wasn’t happy with the path I was leading. The money was good, and the lack of real responsibility was something that I was proud of, in a strange way. It was a life that had many upshots, and yet…I just wasn’t getting the same fulfilment I used to. She made me want to be the kind of person I wasn’t, and the kind of person I wasn’t sure I could ever be. She would want the same picket white fence, with the big house in the suburbs, and a few brats running around, causing sleepless nights and mini heart attacks, that her friends were all destined for. She wanted it so badly but, she was afraid of never attaining it. I was equally terrified, but for different reasons. I had no idea if I could be the kind of person who could have that kind of normalcy. I didn’t know if I was capable of holding down a nine to five job, taking shit from other people and becoming nothing more than a slave to the system. Could I really spend forty hours of my life stuck in a cubicle, or an office, if I were lucky, and then come home and be a lover, a partner, maybe even a father one day? I was so afraid of failing that I had stopped trying to fit into the norm that was expected of me as a college educated man who ‘had endless possibilities’. I had faced too many rejection letters after pitching my ideas to various publishers, and I had forced myself to give up on the hope that I would get my own comic one day. More than anything, I wanted to see my name on a glossy cover, proudly proclaiming that I had made something of myself, that I had achieved the dream I’d held close to my heart since I was a five year old drawing scribbles on my first sketchbook. 

I had forgotten about that desire a long time ago. I hadn’t succeeded in becoming the comic book artist I’d strived to be during my years in school, and in anger and frustration, I had struck out and left the field before I let the defeat kill who I was, but I suppose I had let that happen anyway. Now, I was stuck in a place that left me with little possibility and little hope for any kind of a future that could lead to happiness. There was only one thing in my life that made me want to achieve more, and she was curled up against me like a sated kitten after a day of playing. She had come here the previous night, drunk as hell, but she had let the wall around her heart down for once. God knows how much alcohol it had taken for her to get the courage to do it, but she had been brave enough to let me in, to admit that she finally wanted more in her life than the safe little bubble she had created for herself.

_“Or maybe I’m just not good enough for you for to give it up.’_

Her words were swimming around my head, goading me and prickling my skin with a feeling that was akin to guilt. That wasn’t even a question – in fact, she was the only person who had ever made me even reconsider what I was doing with my life. There were so many other issues involved, like finances, and job hunting, and facing up to what I had become. Did I want to give up everything I had right then? I had savings, but they would be gone in a matter of months, unless I downgraded my apartment dramatically. Even if I got the smallest, dankest, filthiest apartment I could find, it would still take a lifetime to find a job when I have such a big, unexplainable gap in my cv. It wouldn’t look good to a potential employer, and there were no explanations that would sound anything but vague and dodgy.

Chloe moved, twisting her body to face me and letting out a loud sigh. Her large brown eyes fluttered opened, landing on my face with an unfocused glaze. It was quite adorable, watching her wake up and put the pieces of the night before back together. I could see the moment when she was truly awake, and I held in a chuckle when her eyes widened. She blushed, embarrassed that she had woken up in my bed, once again.

“Have I ever told you that you’re an asshole?” She muttered, giving me a shove that wasn’t very effective when she saw my smirk.

“You may have mentioned it last night before you stormed in here. Nice entrance, by the way. It was by far the classiest moment I’ve seen from you.”

“You’re also a dick.”

“You may have also called me that too at some point. You’ve got a real filthy mouth for someone so tiny.”

“Ugh, I’m too tired to think of anything emasculating and insulting right now. My head hurts,” she muttered.

“If you promise to be nice when your headache goes away, I might get you some aspirin,” I offered.

“You know I can’t promise any such thing.”

“That’s too bad. I was thinking of putting some death metal music on, put the speakers on full volume, like I do on Sunday mornings.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“You’re right, it’s a bit too early for that. Maybe I’ll just put some Misfits on.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be nice.Just get me some aspirin!And, for the love of God, no music!Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

I didn’t really want to get up, and it was nothing short of a struggle to get my ass out of bed and into the bathroom, where I stored my painkillers. Since I was up, I grabbed a glass of water for her, guessing that she was probably as dehydrated as the desert right then. She had the covers over her head when I came back, and for a few seconds I wondered if she had fallen asleep again. I crawled back under the covers, and her head came back out.

“Why is everything always so much brighter when I’m hungover?”

“Why is the world round? Why is the sky blue? Some things we’ll just never know.”

I handed her the water and pills, which she devoured greedily. I don’t know if it was the hangover, or if maybe she felt she was passed the point of embarrassment, but it was nice to see her so…relaxed, so uninhibited. She curled back into a ball when she handed me the glass back, and out of some sort of weird instinct, I curled up behind her, spooning her again, without the boob grabbing. She welcomed my embrace, and the silence that fell between us was comfortable in a way I’d rarely experienced with a woman. I took in the smell of her shampoo, a mix of coconut and what smelled like vanilla. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, just wrapped in each other. It couldn’t last forever, though, unfortunately. Chloe shuffled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression.

“Headache gone?”

“Not completely, but it’s much better.”

“You know, there’s another way of getting rid of a headache that’s proved effective.”

She must have still been too tired to catch my drift when she murmured a dumb "what?”.

She caught on a few moments later, when I rolled on top of her, pinning her arms over her head. She flushed, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, but she didn’t stop me when I planted a kiss on her jaw, then licked my way to her ear. She arched her back when I nibbled on the shell of her ear, loving the shocked gasp of pleasure that spilled from her mouth. I held her in place when she wiggled, rubbing her hips against me to hurry things along. I ignored it – torturing her to the point where she was begging for me was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. I kept my attention on her neck and collar bone for a while, with light bites and kisses that left her panting with exertion. It was always an ego boost to see a woman moaning underneath you, but having a woman normally so ice cold melt under your ministration was nothing short of exhilarating. By the time I was in her, she was already a writhing mess beneath me, and it wasn’t too long before we both came hard and fast.

“I think your method for getting rid of headaches is better,” she giggled once she recovered her breath, her head resting on my chest and heart still beating widely, something she could probably hear from her resting place.

“Sixty percent of the time, it works every time.”

“Did you just quote Brian Fantana?”

“Why not? The guy’s my hero.”

She giggled, still breathless from our recent activity.

“What is this, Gerard?”

The question was sudden, and though I had been prepared for it, it still caught me off guard that it was being sprung upon me with no warning.

“What do you want this to be?”

The little bubble we’d been in vanished when she sat up, letting reality in, and destroying the peaceful atmosphere. It felt like we were back to the tension that so often filled the air between us. This was a conversation that could go very, very wrong, and as much as I didn’t want to have it right then, it was inevitable that it was going happen.

“I like you,” she sighed, “despite the fact that you’re the most annoying, infuriating human being I have ever met. You crowd my space when I don’t want you around, and you make me laugh even when I just want to punch that irritating smirk off your face. You’re arrogant, smug and-“

“Amazing in bed?” I couldn’t help cutting her off, knowing it would bring a blush to her cheeks.

“You’re not that good.” She rolled her eyes.

“Good enough to make a living off it,” I teased, though I soon realised that I said exactly the wrong thing.

“Yeah,” she said, turning her gaze to the covers with a look of defeat on her face.

I sat up, hating that I had put that look on her face.

“I…I meant what I said last night. If I could change the choices I made, I would… You’re the biggest bitch I’ve ever met, and way too violent, but I like being around you. You’re a nice person on occasion…and I wish I could give you what you need.”

“You could stop, you know? Would that be so hard?” she sounded angry, and a little distraught. I was surprised she wasn’t lashing out at me, but her eyes remained fixed on the covers, her hand picking at some imaginary hole in the fabric.

“It’s not so simple. I haven’t had a legal job in the last five years, Chloe. Even if someone was willing to hire me to work a shitty low paid job in a field I have no interest in, it’ll be tough to explain a five year gap on my CV. I have bills to pay, I need to eat. I have savings, but they’ll dry up within months. Maybe they’ll last a year, if I move apartment.”

“Do you want to give it up?”

“Yes,” I spoke without thought.

“You…” she stopped herself, biting her bottom lip, “what if you didn’t have to worry about bills? You could try getting back into comics, or something?”

“If you find someone willing to keep me, let me know,” I chuckled darkly.

“I do have a good job, you know,…” she trailed off after a heartbeat of silence, looking at me beneath her lashes for a flicker of a second before she looked away again, her cheeks reddening to a deeper shade, if possible.

“What?” my tone was shaper than intended, but I was stunned by the words that had left her mouth. I was certain that I had misheard her. There was no way she was suggesting what I thought she was. Or she was joking.

“I earn a good wage, more than enough to pay for rent and bills,and…I have a spare room, I mean…fuck,” she groaned, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She gripped her hair with one hand, frustrated and flustered. I realised with a lump in my throat that she wasn’t joking.

I didn’t know how to respond. She was offering something so freely, and I doubted she even knew what it was she was giving without thought. On one level, it was an offer that sounded perfect. It was a way out of prostitution, a chance to get back into the field I had once tried so hard to break into. Without money worries, things would be perfect, on paper. I wasn’t used to depending on others, though, and I wasn’t stupid enough to think that I wouldn’t eventually become resentful, or that she wouldn’t resent me if it took too long for things to work out. That was without considering if we’d even make a relationship work. Could she ever really get over what I had been…what I still was, as of that moment?

“Chloe…not that I don’t appreciate what you’re offering, but…do you realise what you just offered?”

Her eyes narrowed, a little offended bythe question, as though I was questioning her intelligence. It was legitimate to ask, though. Maybe she had a fairytale notion of what life would be like. Maybe she wanted a ‘Pretty Woman’ ending, where she could just take care of me and things would just be rosy.

“You said you wanted to stop. I’m offering you a chance to do that. You’d find a job, Gerard. It might take a while, but I know a few people, and so do the girls… You can fix your CV up a little, smudge a few facts. Maybe you could try and sell some of your sketches as well? I don’t know why you aren’t doing it already. You’re good. I’m not trying to emasculate you, or save you. I’m just…offering you a chance. Is that so bad?”

“No,” I spoke softly, my chest tightening and constricting my oxygen intake. Fuck, how could someone who cut me down with vicious insults half the time, turn around and suddenly give me a chance to be something else, something better.

“Then why not? Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I just…I spent so long not wanting anyone. I wanted to be alone, terrified that I would meet another guy like my ex. I didn’t believe I would meet someone who could make me forget about all the shitty things I hate about myself. Then I met you and I…I don’t expect anything of you, I really don’t. I don’t know where this will go, but I want to find out. I don’t care about your past, I can deal with it. I just…I can’t pretend that it wouldn’t kill me to be with you, knowing that you're with other women, even if  it’s just sex for money. I could try, but it wouldn’t work. And you can’t do it forever. Maybe you’ll get another ten years, if you’re lucky. Then what will you do? I know this is a bit heavy, and yes it’s fucking crazy that I’m asking you to live with me, but I’m more afraid of you saying no than anything else right now.”

“Who knew the ice queen could be so emotional?” I quipped with a smile, trying to break the tension a little.

She glared at me, hiding a smirk.

“I’m not expecting an answer now, but…think about it?”

“I don’t need to think about it,” I spoke my thoughts out loud.

Her face fell, disappointment setting in her eyes.

“I’d be a fool to say no. And I think I kinda wanna see where this goes too.”

Then she smiled. An honest to God, warm-hearted, happy smile. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, and I knew right then that no matter what happened, it was worth it just to make her smile like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaww, a sweet and fluffy chapter. Surely this can't last, I hear you say? Well, maybe, maybe not...you'll have to wait and find out. This has about...four chapters let, I'd say. So, hold onto your hats!
> 
> Oh, and feedback is awesome, so if you can leave some I'd appreciate it!
> 
> Lyra


	13. Chapter 13

*Chloe POV*

The next few months passed by in a blur. Life changed dramatically – up became down, left became right, and loneliness was a thing of the past. Gerard had moved in, leaving behind his old apartment and fancy building. His stuff was now scattered all over my, _our_ , apartment, and the sight still felt strange six months later. The apartment was no longer girly, pretty and nice and neat. Papers were littered on almost every surface. Gerard’s laptop had a permanent place on the kitchen table, which I found annoying, even though we didn’t use it for anything else. We tended to eat on the couch, in front of the television, like the lazy fuckers we were. He was still the arrogant prick who could get a rise out of me with a few words, and that smirk on his pretty-boy face. The bookshelves, which had been half filled with my dvds, was now filled to breaking point when Gerard’s collection was included. His record collection was stored in the spare bedroom, and if I so much as went near them, Gerard would watch me like a hawk, as though my mere presence would break them. I’m a clumsy person, but I highly doubt my clumsinesswould have been enough to destroy his collection.

It hasn’t been easy. It’s an adjustment, living with someone. Especially when you want to kill the person you live with, as much as you want to fuck them. We argued over things like whose turn it was to cook, whether Buffy was a better show than Angel, and why Gerard hadn’t taken the garbage out, and why, dear Lord, did he have to be so messy when he was drawing?

“Why do you have to be such a bitch?” was the standard response to that, before he’d slap my ass and kiss me.

I knew it was love. I felt it in every fibre of my being. I loved waking up beside him every morning, enveloped in his arms that felt safe, warm, and mine. I loved watching him work when he was sketching, painting, or even just sitting beside me on the couch in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that was two sizes too big for him. Even when we were arguing, and I wanted nothing more than to throw a frying pan at him, and bruise his pretty face, I loved him. When we were fucking, it wasn’t just sex. It was the first time I felt that the horribly cliché, lovesick, term ‘making love’ applied. Most of the time, anyway. There were times when it was just old fashioned ‘let’s get off’ kind of sex, which normally occurred after too many drinks, and took place in the most random of places, like the back alley of a bar, the bathroom of a restaurant, or the bottom end of the bed. We fought, we fucked, and sometimes I left him with the odd bruise on his shin when I got pissed off at him over something stupid, but we worked in our own warped way. We hadn’t spoken the words yet, though. I think we were both just afraid of what would happen if they were spoken aloud. We had both been hurt by people who had said those words, and they felt tainted, and a precursor to disaster. We shared a bed, we shared our lives (I had met Mikey, who shared my sense of humour; and he'd met my friends, who had been threatened with death if they spoke about his previous profession.)We just didn’t talk about his past. Our past.

Gerard was now out of the game of prostitution. His skinny jeans were tucked away in the bottom of a drawer somewhere, never to be seen again. I missed them, but I didn’t miss the association of him being with other women, which came to mind whenever they clad his long legs. Gerard was doing commissioned art work, which didn’t bring in much money, but that didn’t matter. He insisted on giving me money towards rent and bills, which had lead to more than one fight between us, that ended with me on my back while he screwed me senseless, until I forgot what we were arguing about. He would sneak the money into my account, or my wallet, and as much as it irritated me, I admired his insistence on paying his way. He was working consistently, though, and his hours were flexible, as long as he met his deadline, so he had a little bit of the freedom that meant so much to him. He had enough time in his day to work on a comic idea of his. He didn’t let me look at it too often – he seemed almost afraid of my opinion, which I found odd, since he was a person who let insults and criticism roll off his back. I put it down to his art being too personal, his ideas and creations came from his mind, and as such, they were a part of him. I tried not to be too hurt by his obvious mistrust, which was tough, but I refused to let it get to me. I knew it was hard for him, too. He was struggling with the change, just like I was. Probably more, really. He gave up a good paying ‘job’, a really nice apartment, his lifestyle, even. I had asked a lot of him, and I was conscious of that every day, when I’d see him with a paintbrush in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed, and a lip worried between his small teeth, and I just knew that he was struggling to put what he was told to do, and what his vision was, together in a cohesive vision. I worried that he regretted his choice to give it up, that his sacrifice was too much for him to bear, and that one day it would crush him down, and turn him into a bitter shell of his former self. He never spoke about it, and whenever I pried, he would just give me that smirk and say something witty that had nothing to do with what he was working on, or how he truly felt about what he was doing now, and if it was worth it.

Things were different, but they were good. Strange, disconcerting, a little bit, sometimes dizzying from the intensity of it all, when we lost ourselves in our bubble, and locked the outside world away for a little while, and just enjoyed being together under a duvet on the couch, watching some trashy horror movie I’d never seen before. Sometimes I felt the old fear come back, rising up and clawing at my chest, infiltrating my brain and telling me that one day he’d break my heart, just like my ex had, that I wouldn’t be good enough for him to stay with me, love me, maybe do the corny stuff I wanted deep down inside, like marriage and children. When the fear came, it would take my breath away - my lungs felt heavy, and water clogged, and my heart raced with panic that was akin to a panic attack. Then he would wrap his arms around me, or insult my height, or congratulate me on my excellent choice of film, and it would fade into the background. He made me forget about the things that bothered me, the things that made my skin crawl, the things that used to keep me up at night. All the unimportant, paranoid thoughts just didn’t bother me the same way they used to. I felt comfortable within myself in a way that I had never felt before, and it was a baffling, yet oddly therapeutic, turn of events. Self-loathing was never far under the surface, but it was easy to brush off the snide comments my subconscious would make when I caught sight of myself in the mirror, or when it tried to criticise my self-worth, when Gerard would tell me how he thought I was beautiful, and the toughest bitch he'd ever met, in an endearing tone that told me he meant it.

“Did you _really_ have to put it on the top shelf?” I asked in a deathly quiet whisper, my eyes glaring at Gerard, who was standing with a hip resting against the kitchen counter, that smug smirk on his face again.

“There was no room for it in the other cupboard. It’s not my fault you’re the height of a hobbit.”

“Fuck you! I’m three inches taller than the tallest recorded hobbit.”

“In heels, maybe.”

I threw the dish cloth by the sink at him, and the fucker caught it in one hand.

“Whatever. You’re just jealous that I don’t have a single grey hair yet.”

“I’d rather be grey than a ginger.”

“Auburn. And I saw the look on your face when I pointed it out. You’re vainer than any women I’ve ever met.”

“I’m also prettier than any women you’ve met. Your point is moot.”

“Your dick is moot.”

“Sugar, if you want to get laid, you can just ask. No need for vulgarity.”

“You wish!” I turn my back on him, facing the cupboard again and stretching up on my tippee toes to reach the packet of rice, as though I had suddenly grown an extra two inches in the last thirty seconds, and could magically reach the blue packet that was just out of my reach. I wasn’t too surprised when I pushed into the counter, a torso that was far longer than mine flushed against my back. A long arm reached out, a broad hand wrapping long fingers around the blue packet. The blue package was set down on the counter in front of me, then the hands slid down my sides, over my waist, across my hips and down my stomach where they dipped inside my black cotton trousers. His hand slipped inside my white panties, and I was done for, letting out a loud gasp.

“Hhhmmm, I think your body is saying otherwise, sugar.”

“Uh-“

I just couldn’t think of a reply, not when his fingers were stroking me slowly, turning my mind into mush.

“Now you know why I keep it on the top shelf,” he licked the shell of my ear, and I didn’t give a flying fuck about the rice anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!!!!
> 
> There are three more chapters after this! The next two chapters will be quite fast paced I imagine. I hope you enjoyed this latest offering. Remember, feedback is awesome.
> 
> Lyra xxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerard POV

*Gerard POV*

It was just one of those days. Nothing had gone terribly wrong, nothing crazy or dramatic had sidetracked me or distracted me. Chloe had gone off to work in a pleasant mood, managing a smile, before she kissed my cheek and walked out of our apartment with the promise of bringing home a take out on her way home. Things were good. They should have felt good. Most days they did, even. Life was better than it had been for…well, ever. This day was just one of those where I felt a lingering feeling of frustration, with a healthy dollop of foreboding that something disastrous was heading my way. It felt like another down period was on the horizon, and that day I didn’t have any energy to try and fight it.

I was out of the game for months now. I was starting to make a bit of a name for myself among people in the art community, and though commissioned artwork wasn’t something I envisioned myself doing for money, I was (quite surprisingly) getting by. I wasn’t earning a lot of money, by any means, but certainly enough to pay my end of rent and contribute to things like bills and groceries. Chloe had tried to insist that she could cover things like bills, but in the end I won the argument. She was a truly stubborn woman, but she wasn’t a match for me when I was determined to get my way. When she refused to take my money, I resorted to lodging it into her account myself. She was pissed by the invasion of her privacy, since it involved finding her account information through stalking through her bank receipts, but I had earned her forgiveness through sexual favours, and generally letting her get her own way for the following fortnight. It was battle I had won, though not without a lot of sulking on Chloe’s part. I think she soon realised that I needed to contribute, even if I was only bringing in a few hundred dollars every couple of weeks. Commissions were picking up, though. I had a new piece to finish every two weeks or so. I had enough time to fine tune the comic book I had been working on for the last number of years. I had somehow managed to get a meeting to pitch it with a publishing house, something I never thought would happen. Chloe had pushed me to send it in, literally. She had forced me to post a copy of it in, old school style, in a ridiculously large envelope. It had been six months before I got a call back, asking me to come in to formally pitch the idea in person. I had all but given up hope by then, but the phone call had ignited the familiar excitement and fear that went with pitching. If it went well, I could finally achieve my lifelong dream. If I failed…well, then I would meet with failure once again. It never got any easier, and somehow I had a feeling that this rejection would be more painful than all the others combined. It wasn’t just my hopes that were pinned on it. Chloe was right behind me, and as weird as it may sound, I knew my disappointment would be hers too. I doubt she would show it, but deep down, she would see me as a failure, just like my ex from college had, all those years ago. This wasn’t my first attempt at pitching a creation of mine, and I could only hope that I had learned from my mistakes in previous pitches.

I went over my prepared speech again, using a pen and paper instead of my laptop, to write and make corrections. Writing in ink made it seem more real, and it had a calming influence on me. I could see the mistakes I made more clearly, and the scribbles and crossed out words highlighted the process in action. I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t the be all and end all. If I didn’t get this, there would be other opportunities, and other publishing companies that could take interest. I just prayed that the pitch itself would go smoothly, no matter what the outcome.

 

**

 

“Well, Mr. Way, I must admit, I’m quite impressed. How many years have you worked on this?”

I had reeled off my speech, and now I was left to field questions from one of the guys in charge of commissioning new comics, John Smith. I guessed he was around fifty or so, but he seemed like a guy who acted far younger than his years. His Armani suit gave his wealth away, though. He was new to the industry, having bought into the company only months before, and this was the first pitch he was sitting in on. There were two other men in the room, I couldn’t remember their names, but they didn’t speak during the entire time I spent in the room.

“About five years, give or take.”

“I can see you have a well planned out vision. Tell me, how many volumes would you foresee this spanning into?”

“As of right now, there are three volumes of eight planned out, but there’s potential for more.”

“Good, good. Well, Mr Way, we’re going to go over all the information we have here, and we’ll be in touch in due course. You’ll hear from us, either way. Thank you for coming in today.”

“My pleasure.Thank you for the opportunity,” I replied automatically, thankful that it was over. There was nothing I could do now but, wait for them to make up their minds.

“I’ll walk you out, Mr Way,” Smith stood up, walking out from behind his desk and leading the way out of the boardroom.

He walked me down the hall, making idle chit chat. He asked if I had studied art, and where. He seemed like a nice guy, and I think I made a good impression. We were at reception, saying a final goodbye, when I heard the sound of a familiar voice reach my ears. I stiffened, rigid and cold.

“John, I was dropping by to see if you were free for lunch!”

Gillian’s slim frame, and immaculate appearance, was right in front of me. Her eyes gave me a quick once over, but she didn’t acknowledge me.

“Gillian,” John’s voice was friendly, and he brought Gillian into a polite hug, followed by a kiss on the cheek.

“Gerard, I’d like you to meet myfiancé, Gillian.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Gerard,” Gillian simpered, holding out a perfectly manicured hand for me to shake.

My brain was on autopilot, paralysed with shock and panic. This was bad. Any other client, I would be certain they would keep quiet. They all had as much to lose as I did, for the most part, except for Gillian. Gillian was a vindictive person, who hadn’t been too pleased when I had informed her that I was no longer providing my services anymore. Would she stoop low enough to ruin this chance for me out of some need for revenge, or even just forthe sick pleasure of destroying someone’s chance at finally making a chance for themselves? I think it was a possibility.

“I’m afraid I can’t do lunch today.Gerard’s pitch overran a little, and I have a lunch meeting with Cartoon Network in half an hour.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” she smiled, entirely false and insincere.

“Well, goodbye for now, Gerard. You’ll be hearing from us shortly,” John held out a hand for me to shake, which I returned dumbly.

“Thank you, again, Mr Smith,” I smiled weakly.

I gave a curt nod then walked away as quickly as I could, without appearing suspicious or deranged. I was out of the building before I let my body shake and tremble, all the adrenaline coursing through me was going straight to my head, making me feel light-headed, and a little dazed.

“Gerard!”

I heard her voice, cool and crisp, cut through the busy city street. My blood cooled, and boiled, at the same time. She caught up with me, surprisingly quickly for a woman who was wearing four inch heels.

“Gillian,” There was no point running away, or avoiding her. I knew I was fucked.

“What a wonderful surprise to see you again. Who knew you had talents outside the bedroom, huh?”

My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding together as I fought to control my anger. I didn’t have to put up with this anymore.

“What can I do for you, Gillian?”

I didn’t hide my anger, or distaste, at her presence. Her eyes narrowed, before a sly smirk curled at her lips.

“Now,Gerard, there’s no need for that. I quite enjoyed our time together, and I thought maybe we could be of…use...to each other. But let’s not discuss that here. How about we go for a little lunch, huh?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Gillian. I’m in a relationship, so I don’t think I can be of much use to you.”

She gave a little laugh, a cold, calculated giggle that wasn’t pleasant.

“I don’t give a shit about your girlfriend, Gerard. Let me make myself clear – this isn’t a negotiation. I can make things very difficult for you. Do you think any company would align themselves with an ex prostitute, once it got out? It’s hardly going to look good for their image, is it? And, believe me, once John finds out, everyone in the industry will be told about you. So, before you get on some kind of moral high ground, how about you think about what it is you stand to lose, huh? I’m just asking for a last goodbye, since you cut me off without any warning, and John really isn’t much of a substitute, as good as he is. I’ll even pay you, which I think is quite generous.”

I couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. I watched her dig into her handbag, and pull out a card. I was stunned into silence, my eyes watching every little movement, from the way her long fingers dipped into her designer bag, to the way they clutched the paper card with a firm hold, to how her hands didn’t even shake as she held the card out to me.

“I’ll give you a day to think about it. Here’s my card.Call me when you make the right decision!”

She smirked, then planted a kiss on my cheek, before her high heels clinked their way down the sidewalk, and stepped inside a waiting limousine. I waited until the vehicle pulled away before I looked down at the card, my lip curled in disgust. Never, in all the countless possibilities that had gone through my mind about how this day would go, did I ever imagine my past would come back to haunt me in such a terrifying way.

 

**

 

“So, how did it go?”

Chloe’s voice was full of happy enthusiasm as she came bounding into the apartment, a box of Japanese take out in tow. She looked a little tired, and her make up was a little smudged, but she still looked good. Her hair had stayed neat in the bun she has hastily styled it into in the morning.

“It went okay,” I told her.

I knew she wouldn’t leave it at that, though. It was too big a deal for her to drop it. I didn’t want to lie to her, but telling her the truth didn’t seem like an option either. There was a part of me that acknowledged that not telling her could blow up in my face. But, I also knew just how insecure Chloe was. If I told her about Gillian, I knew it would eat away at her. Chloe, to my complete surprise, had never thrown my past back at me. It was something we never brought up, and even in the heat of an argument, it was one line she never crossed. It was just an unspoken rule – we didn’t talk about my sexual history, or about my time as a hooker. I told her certain stories, but without a lot of details. For her, it was a case of what she didn’t know, couldn’t hurt her. She dealt with my past by not dealing with it. She remained blissfully ignorant, and I wholeheartedly encouraged it.

She looked at me expectantly. I could see the happiness ebb away from her eyes, as disappointment quickly filled the void it left. How could I tell her that my chance of achieving my dream was now destroyed because of an old client?

“I…I don’t think it’s going to go forward,” I explained, and in nervous agitation, I began to bite my fingernails. Chloe put the box down on the table and joined me on the couch.

“Oh,” there it was, the disappointment I'd dreaded hearing, “What happened?”

We had been together for the best part of seven months, and yet it still surprised me when I heard Chloe speak in that tone of voice. It was soft, concerned, almost motherly. It physically hurt to see the look on her face, the one that tried to hide her feelings of sadness.

Should I tell her? Would it make things better, or worse? I couldn’t believe that telling the truth about Gillian would do any good.

“Nothing. Pretty standard pitch.Nothing went wrong. Just…I’m not gonna get my hopes up.”

A little smirk formed on her face, and she joined me on the couch.

“I’m sure you did wonderfully, Gerard. Your talent for comics is only exceeded by your wonderful movie taste and star wars trivia knowledge.”

“Is that actually a compliment?” I couldn’t help but smile.

“I know! Who knew I was capable of such a thing? Miracles can happen.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Chloe?”

“Don’t worry, she’ll be back soon to remind you that you s _till_ haven’t taken the garbage out. I know you’re worried about your fingernails chipping, but that shit needs to be done.”

“Do you know how long it took me to get them looking this good?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You used all of my nail strengthener polish in the process.”

“You know you love it when I have pretty nails.”

“I love it almost as much as I love your secret love of country music.”

“Backstreet Boys,” was all I needed to retort, before my arm was in receipt of another one of Chloe’s punches.

“Never speak of that again.”

“It’s okay.Your love for Nick Carter will never leave this room.”

“Damn right!Or I’ll destroy your Eddie poster.”

“You really are evil.”

“I fight dirty,” she shrugged, flashing me an evil smile before pulling out the white boxes filled with noodles. She handed me one, followed by a plastic fork.

“I really am proud of you, Gerard. I don’t say it a lot, but I am. I know you’re going to get this, Gerard. You worked too hard for it to go wrong now.”

The words struck me, hitting me hard with surprising force. I didn’t respond, and the rest of the evening was spent mulling over her words. 

“Will I put your pants in the laundry?” Chloe asked later that evening, now dressed in a tank top and shorts. She held up my suit trousers from earlier with one hand, the other cradling the laundry basket to her side.

“Sure,” I replied distractedly, my gaze focused on the television.

If I’d been more aware, I would have remembered that Gillian’s card was in those pockets as Chloe rifled through them to make sure they were empty before they went into the wash. Things might have turned out very differently, otherwise.

“Who’s Gillian?”

Her tone was deceptive. She sounded calm, laced with curiosity, but one look at her, and I knew she wasn’t nearly as calm as she tried to appear as she held the small card in her hands.

“She’s the fiancée of the guy I pitched for today,” I told her with indifference, hoping she would take what I said at face value.

“Why did she give you her card? Is she an old client or something?”

“Chloe, I-“

“Why did you take her card, Gerard?”

“Chloe, you’re overreacting. I was being polite; it doesn’t mean anything.”

I knew I said the wrong thing.

“Well, excuse me for not being ecstatic that my ex hooker boyfriend has an old client’s card in his pocket; a client who happens to be connected with the guy who may or may not publish your comic, no less. Isn’t that just a big coincidence?”

“What exactly are you implying?” I asked, standing up.

I wanted her to say it. I could see her connecting the dots, see her mind putting two and two together. In the back of my mind, I waited for something like this to happen. I’d waited for the day when my past would finally be thrown back in my face, for it to skew Chloe’s view of me and trump anything I would say to defend myself.

“Did you fuck her to get the pitch?”

“And what if I did, huh?”

I was angry, hurt, and not thinking clearly. I should have just told her no, called her a few names and then waited for her to apologise, like she would have done. Everything was crashing down on top of me, and it fuelled my desire to be self-destructive. My dream was once again about to turn to nothing, and for what? To remain faithful to a woman who doubted my monogamy?

“Fuck this,” I seethed.

I grabbed my coat, keys and my phone, ignoring Chloe’s tear-filled eyes watching me. She didn’t utter a sound, didn’t try to stop me as I stormed out of the apartment.

That was the first of the mistakes I made that night. The next one was going to the bar and drowning my sorrows with a few beers. The one after that was checking my phone, and finding I still had Gillian’s number stored on it. Turning up at her apartment an hour later was probably the biggest one of all.

“Scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. I’ll make sure you get your comic, and we keep this quiet. Understood?”

I nodded, barely getting a chance to take a breath, before her mouth crashed against mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in this.
> 
> I also apologise to the all you readers who probably hate me right now.
> 
> Lyra xxx


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe POV

Chloe POV

I felt physically sick. Not just a little nauseous, like I was coming down with a bit of a cold or flu. No, I was sick to the point that I dry heaved into the toilet bowl, but nothing came up. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that I looked awful. I hadn’t slept all night, a mixture of guilt and anger keeping my mind awake and active. By the time I saw six am flash on the digital clock that rested on my bedside locker, I knew going to work was impossible. I got on well with my boss, and since I had never called in sick before, he told me to get back to bed and rest up, and not to worry if I needed another day or two to recover. I thought maybe then I would get some sleep, but it still didn’t come. I drifted from the bed to the couch, where I dragged the duvet with me to cuddle up with my despair and self pity.

Gerard still hadn’t come home. I didn’t know where he was, or what he was doing. I had tried calling his cell, but it was dead, and I knew there was no use in leaving a voicemail. He would probably delete it before he even listened to it. I had no idea what I should do, or how I should feel about our argument. He didn’t deny that he had slept with Gillian, but he didn’t admit it, either. Had I unfairly accused him? Had I let jealousy and insecurity override my senses? Or had I caught Gerard red handed? I was at work all day, and he had plenty of time to do whatever he wanted, without me knowing. Had I been stupid to think that a man so used to using sex to get what he wanted would change so quickly? Had I forced a change on him that he wasn’t ready for? Was this of my own doing? Or was I just blinded by love and charisma? Was Gerard just another reminder that men couldn’t be trusted, no matter how much I was in love with said man? There were too many thoughts trying to gain some airtime in my head, making it impossible to focus on any one train for too long.

I was in a bad place. I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t eat, and I sure as hell wasn’t fit to shower, or do anything that was remotely productive. I needed to talk to Gerard, and resolve our fight. We fought a lot, sure, but this was different. This wasn’t a little spat over stupid domestic stuff. I wished it was, because then my stomach wouldn’t be twisted in fear, anxiety and anger. I stayed on the couch, like the pathetic person I was, as though the world would end if I moved.

He finally came home sometime after noon. He looked more than a little worse for wear. His skin was sickly pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and the bags underneath suggested that he didn’t sleep at all. I could smell the alcohol on him when he came into the living room. He didn’t seem drunk, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. He was hungover, from the looks of it, and it made me question how much he must have drunk, in order to have gotten into that state. I had never seen him suffer from one before. He was capable of handling his drink, and his tolerance well exceeded my own.

“Where were you?” I asked, finally getting up from the couch.

He eyed me wearily, his eyes squinting as he glared at me.

“Would you believe anything other than 'I was screwing someone for money or favours'?”

“Gerard, I’m-“

“Sorry? Doesn’t change the fact that you’re never going to trust me, are you?” he slurred. “Be honest Chloe, you’ve been waiting for the chance to catch me out, prove that I’m just the whore who’ll screw for the right price?”

“No! I shouldn’t have accused you of that last night. I was wrong, I was just-“

“Insecure? I know. Hell, who wouldn’t be insecure with a whore for a boyfriend. Guess leopards don’t change their spots, right?”

“Gerard, I’m trying to apologise here, okay?So just shut the fuck up for a second! I was wrong, okay? I know you worked so hard on your comic, and I shouldn’t have trivialised it. I shouldn’t have made it seem as though you couldn’t have gotten the pitch on your own merits. It was bitchy, and I know I’m horrible, and I let my jealousy get to me. I’m sorry.”

Gerard nodded, his face impassive,and I felt a real fear in that second that he was going to tell me that I had been right, that he had indeed fucked his way into the comic industry. He didn’t look mollified by my apology.He wasn’t pacified or pleased that I'd swallowed my pride for once, and actually apologised.

“No, it’s okay, Chloe. I get it. I really do. Why wouldn’t I do it? I mean, I’ve screwed half the socialites in the city. Sex is nothing to me, and never has been. It’s never been emotional, it’s never been about a connection, or romance, or commitment. Screwing some rich bitch was just a way to make ends meet, a way to get what I needed. You think I would give up an opportunity to get a comic published, if the only thing standing in my way was fucking someone?”

His words hung in the air, heavy, tense and challenging me. I bit my lip, and I thought about what he asked me. Did I believe Gerard would fuck his way to get what he wanted, especially if the act was as meaningless to him as he so bluntly proclaimed?

“I don’t think you did,” I answered, shaking my head.

I wasn’t sure if I believed it. All I knew was that I could get over it, as long as I didn’t know for sure. In this situation, ignorance was bliss.

“You don’t even mean that. Even if you did, how long until you find another reason to bring it up? How long until someone finds out, and makes you feel embarrassed, or uncomfortable? What if, heaven forbid, you somehow meet an old client? What then, Chloe? Are you going to watch my every move then? Are you going to be paranoid every time I leave the house? Are you going to check up on me, to appease your insecurity?”

“Gerard-“

“Don’t you see it? This is only going to go one way, Chloe. It doesn’t matter what I do, or what I say, you will never trust me. Seven months down the line - seven months of us living together, doing everything together - and the very first time something comes up, you jump to one conclusion. What the fuck does that say?”

“It says that I’m an idiot. I’m stupid, and I messed up, but we can move forward. Normal people argue, and do silly shit all the time. It doesn’t mean anything!”

“But we’re not normal, Chloe. We don’t have a normal relationship. We can’t tell people how we met. What about in a few years, maybe we have children? What would you tell them, huh?”

“That stuff doesn’t matter, Gerard.”

“But it does, Chloe. It does matter, and it’s gonna eat you up inside eventually.”

It suddenly hit me, in that exact moment, what was about to happen. I knew what way he was thinking, and the panic was instantaneous.

“We tried, Chloe. We really fucking tried, but I think we both know that this isn’t going to work.”

I was in complete shock. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to apologise, and things would be okay. This wasn’t part of the plan. Panic struck in a sharp burst of adrenaline, making me take a step forward as a pathetic plead escaped from my mouth.

“This can work, Gerard. Don’t do this!Don’t end it like this!”

“It’s for the best.”

“No it’s not. You’re punishing me for making a mistake.”

“If that’s how you wanna see this, fine. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

He walked into the bedroom we shared, and from the rustling I could hear, he was packing a bag. I felt cold inside, like all the warmth had been sucked out of me. It crossed my mind to go in, and make him see sense. Pride wouldn’t let me, though. I wasn’t going to make him stay. I wanted to beg him to stay, to not hold my mistake against me when I’d so understanding in the past, but the bigger part of me refused to lower myself to that level of pathetic behaviour. In the back of my mind, one thought took hold - if he wanted to leave, he obviously didn’t love me enough to stay.

The tears welled up, and a few slipped out, but I refused to let them fall. Yet again, I wasn’t enough.  I should have known better than to let myself think that someone could love me enough to put up with me and all my baggage and insecurities. I could hear him leave the room, but I wouldn’t turn to look at him. I stayed on the couch, with my back turned to him, and it took all of my self control not to look at him and plead for him to give me a chance. I could feel his gaze on me, waiting for me to do something. Maybe he wanted me to beg, and degrade myself, to give his ego a boost. Is that what it would take to make him stay? It would be so easy to do it, but, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, though. So, I stayed where I was, unmoving and unwavering in my stubbornness.  The next thing I heard was the door slamming, a gust of draft brushed against my skin, and then my self control vanished, and I was nothing but a blubbering mess of regret on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. I have no excuse - I had this written days ago...I just lacked motivation to post it. I hope you guys like it anyway, I know it's not the greatest chapter ever. 
> 
> Lyra xxx


	16. Chapter 16

*Gerard pov*

My phone beeped, but I had no motivation to move from my current position, (which was lying on my back, on a way too fucking small single bed, staring at the ceiling with unblinking, unfocused eyes) at least not yet, anyway. I was stuck in what was beginning to resemble a neverending cycle of waking up, coffee and a cigarette, back to bed, before my appetite would force me off my back to get something a bit more substantial than caffeine and nicotine. I would always end up back in the small box room I inhabited for the foreseeable future. I would never have envisioned myself asking my little brother for help, but my pride and Chloe’s temper forced my hand in the matter. He and his girlfriend had let me stay in their admittedly small apartment, and had done so with few questions. Of course, there had been the initial ‘What happened with Chloe?’ and “Can you not work out whatever it is?”, and my least favourite of all “How did the pitch go?” That one was the one I found hard to fob off. I could tell Mikey was worried, as a dutiful brother would be, but I found it impossible to put into words just how utterly fucked up my situation was.

The phone beeped again, reminding me that I had yet to read the message. I sighed, rubbing my forehead in annoyance and restrained anger. I knew the message wouldn’t be from Chloe. She had dutifully ignored my existence since I had walked out almost two days ago, other than the one missed call and voicemail she left me the day after. It wasn’t an extraordinary length of time, but it felt like a lifetime, when my life was slowly falling apart at the seams, and I had no real desire to do anything about it. In the back of my mind, it was like a part of me knew I deserved it. I lived a life of thoughtlessness and carelessness. Every action had been selfserving, and the universe was finally pulling the rug from under my feet.

There was a tinge of anger that tingled under my skin, which melded in with the defeated depression that had taken a hold of my psyche over the last two days. I was a child, who had been within reach of a bowl of unlimited candy – everything had been going better than I could have ever hoped for. I had the love of a woman who wasn’t perfect, but she made my days that little bit better, with the knowledge that she was there at the end of it. The hard work I had put into my art was finally paying off, and I had been offered an opportunity to get into the industry I had struggled to get a foot into for years. My confidence was soaring with the realisation that there was more to life than getting by, and selling myself for a lavish lifestyle. I had been living for the first time in years. It had been strange, exciting, confusing at times, but I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Only, I had traded it in. I had gone back into the habit of using my body to get out of a difficult situation. Maybe I was just destined to forever mess up my life, and destroy my chances of happiness. There was something out to get me in the world, something that always seemed to make my desires within my grasp, but just ever so slightly out of reach when I tried to obtain it. For a few moments, I had actually let myself fantasise about having it all, for once in my life.

Everything had been going so well with the pitch for my comic. I had been nothing short of a mess of nervousness and anxious energy when I stepped inside the boardroom, facing two men who were essentially the deciders of my fate. The men in business suits who had dissected my work to its very essence, and judged it on not just it’s artistic merit, but its marketability, and their opinion on whether I was worth banking on to make them more money, had seemed more than satisfied with the pitch. I had left the office with the belief that I could have possibly secured my dream. I had been so afraid of failing, that I had stopped trying to achieve it. I had been on the brink of success, I swore I felt it. It wasn’t a feeling that I could give a name to, or describe to anybody. It was just a certainty, a baseless knowledge, if you will, that karma may finally for once be coming my way and letting me have the thing I had wanted since I was aware of the concept of working for a living.

I was five years old when I first discovered the joy that art gave me. It had been an escape during my troubling teenage years, and even in Art School, when the crushing blow of college being exactly the same as high school hit me, and lead to a period of disillusionment with the path I had chosen. It was something that called to me, and I had always felt this need to create and destroy, to put my thoughts and feelings onto paper, instead of bottling it inside. It only seemed natural to make a living from something I felt so connected with. Too many years of defeat had dulled that ambition, until I met Chloe, and I slowly regained that part of myself that I had slide over the years. It had almost slithered into nonexistence, crushed under the weight of jadedness when life had just not gone my way quick enough. I had given up on the dream, but with a little bit of encouragement from Chloe, I had chased it again, and landed myself what was one of the most important opportunities I would ever be handed. It had felt like everything was meant to be. Of course, it just wasn’t meant to be.

 

Gillian, the devil incarnate who had no soul or conscience, or a shred of anything close to humanity, within the stick thin body she inhabited, had decided to take advantage of the one chance I had of making my dream a reality. She blackmailed me, successfully reinforcing that my long held fear of my past never truly staying right where it belonged, was correct.

I had no intention of giving into the woman. Even if I thought I could stomach the idea of actually being in the same room as her for more than a minute, and if I didn’t have Chloe, who I wished to remain faithful to, like I knew she was to me, I didn’t want my career to be forever attached to the a woman as vile as her. She in no way deserved to take any credit for my success, if I were ever to obtain it. It was my work, it was my bloodied fingers and sacrificed hours that would be the reason I made it, not some bitch with a joyless sex life, because she was more interested in money than happiness.

I had walked home after her threat, accepting that my chance had gone, because of the mistakes of my past. It chewed me up, swallowed me whole, and left me to stew in the acidic, infectious thoughts of what might have been if I had left that office earlier, or if I had never even tried. What if Chloe, in her infinite fucking wisdom and need to do what she thought was best by me, hadn’t encouraged me to invest my time into the idea I had stuck in my head and to put out there for others to judge. Part of me, as wrong as it was, blamed her for the anger that manifested with every passing second. That was the only explanation for how I reacted when she doubted whether it had been my work and her encouragement that had gotten me the pitch.

I should have just told her the truth. I should have made her see sense. I should never have let her believe she was right to doubt me. Too much had gone wrong, though, and my head just wasn’t capable of logical thought. So, I left. I left her in our apartment, in the belief that I had fucked my way to getting a chance at the big time. That wasn’t even the biggest mistake I had made that night.

Going to Gillian’s place that night, drunk as hell, and in self destruct mode, trumped every other stupid mistake I had made along the way. Letting her put her hands on me, touching me and using me for her own desire, had brought back the old feelings of being nothing more than a vessel for other people’s enjoyment. She had palmed me through my jeans, and I realised that I just _couldn’t_.

Not because of Chloe. Not because of what it meant for my career. For once, I stopped for _me_. I didn’t want to be the guy who let someone use him, yet again. I had done it for so long, because I thought I was okay with it. And for all those years, I had been. I had enjoyed it, even. I truly believed that I had a good life, one that many would be envious of, and maybe I had been right. All I knew, was that right then, it wasn’t something I wanted anymore. I wasn’t that person anymore. I had changed, and I didn’t realise until that moment just how detached I was from the old Gerard. To say Gillian was pissed when I threw her off me was an understatement. Her shrieks were akin to a banshee’s, and I was pretty certain my hearing would never fully recover from the high decimals that emitted from her mouth.

That was how I landed up on Mikey’s doorstep, in the middle of the morning. And two days later, I had barely moved from the spare room. I ignored the texts from Gillian, with more threats of revealing my past to her fiancé if I didn’t ‘finish the job’. I didn’t listen to the voicemail Chloe had left me, and I deleted the texts before I read them. I didn’t think I could face whatever it was she had to say. I didn’t want to take responsibility for ending the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was too stubborn to admit defeat, so I took the cowards way out, and just avoided the clusterfuck I had created. I knew I couldn’t keep doing it forever, but, for the time being, it was a hell of a lot better than facing Chloe, and the destruction I had left in my wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you read my other stories, you already know the reason for my lack of updates. If you don't, basically, I started a new job and moved, plus had a little case of lack of motivation to write. It's all good now though, and I plan on getting back on track.
> 
> I apologise for leaving you with such a cliffhanger for so long, It really wasn't intentional. I was going to leave you guessing for longer as to whether Gerard went through with it, so take the early revelation as an apology. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts. 
> 
> Lyra xx
> 
> PS, I now have a twitter account. Follow me @MCR_Lyra, where you can talk to me, ask me questions and remind me to update.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, long time no see.
> 
> Life has been...eventful. I met someone, who I'm a little crazy about, so I've had no time to write. I'm off for the next few days though, and then I'll be off for a few days over Christmas. So, I shall use to the time to write. As I type, I have the next chapter of this story started. I might even get it finished tonight. I think, for the moment, I shall try to get the last few chapters of this finished. The last chapter will be chapter 20, so there are only 3 left. I will be sorry to let this story go, but all things end. I just hope you guys forgive me for not being the best updater. I shall be rewriting my Christmas Story 'Last Christmas'; it was far too rushed, and I feel like I didn't do it justice. So, keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Anyway, lets hope you guys got through the long ass author's note. Please, let me know your thoughts and what you think will happen. I hope you enjoy this offering!
> 
> Lyra xx

*Chloe POV*

“I’m so sorry, Michael.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Chloe. It’s our quiet season, anyhow.I think we can survive a couple of days without you. Take the time you need, and get yourself better. You can make it up when you get back.”

It was so hard not to cry at the caring, almost soothing, tone to my boss’ voice. He had a deep voice, almost like Alan Rickman, or Jeremy Irons. It was the kind of voice you would happily listen to, no matter what they were talking about. Michael could be reading the phone book, and I truly wouldn’t mind; it was just so peaceful and relaxing to listen to. It was so different from Gerard’s more feminine voice, which was higher in pitch, and way more expressive in tone. Michael was quit monotone; Gerard was anything but. His voice went that little bit higher when he was excited, and when he was tired, he would take more time with his words, each syllable slipping from his mouth with concentrated effort. First thing in the morning, his voice would be hoarse, and a little croaky, which would make me smile with the adorableness of it. Then he would smile when he caught me staring, making me blush, even after all the months we had been together.

I hung up, thoughts of Gerard in my mind, as he had been over the last two days. It had been two long days, the hours and minutes endless since he had walked out. I had left him one voicemail; the ball had been left in his court after that. I may have made a mistake by throwing accusations made in jealousy, but I wasn’t about to stoop to previous levels of pathetic-ness, in an attempt to get someone back.

I had been down that road before, many years ago. I had cried, begged, and pleaded, for someone not to leave me. I had left voicemails, emails, text messages, which were all, unsurprisingly, ignored. Then, when I got desperate enough, I had even gone to his new apartment. Having his new girlfriend open the door, with a look of pity, mingled with disgust and anger, had been the wake up call. An epiphany, of sorts, if you will. I had already lost him long before our relationship had ended. So many things had been wrong before he called a halt to the doomed relationship. We were so different in fundamental ways, ways that we never could have surmounted in the years down the road. I had just been a fool enough to think we could gloss over them, ignore the obvious polarities in our opinions and ideas for the future, because, in my mind, _love conquers all._

It’s a foolish notion, one that I had long forgotten about. For years, I lived an existence where I believed love was something only for weak, insecure people. Love was something I could do without, and I happily lived a life free of complications. At least, I thought I did. I truly believed I was content, living for work and my friends. It had been enough for so long, and I never thought it would change.

Then Gerard came along. With his charming smirk, his cocky arrogance, his overwhelming sex appeal and yes, his way-too-fucking-pretty face. The first night we met, it had changed something in me. I went from believing that I was happy alone, to suddenly seeing that maybe, just maybe, there could be someone out there that I could love. That maybe, someone out there could love me, too. Yes, I fought against it for a while. I let my defence mechanism take control, in order to protect myself. But even that couldn’t withstand the power of Gerard’s steely determination.

We’d been happy. So fucking happy, it was sickening. We had our own little bubble, our own little routine, and way of connecting. We grated on each other sometimes, and on more than one occasion, I wanted to murder him. But our better moments far outweighed the little clashes we had. Even if I was pissed off with him, I still wanted to cuddle up beside him on our couch, and watch some _Battlestar Galactica_ , while gorging on pizza. It was mundane, but it was _us_. We were in our element in those moments; we were content to just be two big fucking dorks, as long as we were doing it together. Things weren’t perfect, but they were as close to perfect as anyone could ever attain.

Then, things came in the way. Things that were out of my control, like my temper, and my deep seated insecurity that had yet to dissipate, even when I was at my most secure. The ghost of my previous failures, and the remnants of Gerard’s less than glamorous past, made for one hell of a catastrophe waiting to happen. Perhaps my relationship with Gerard, just like my relationship with Rick, was doomed to fail, and I was just too naïve and in love to see it. Part of me, as I sat on my couch in my days old clothes, unshowered and unkempt as I wallowed in self pity, was berating myself, for allowing myself to believe that such an obviously doomed venture could work. That I could scrape together some semblance of normalcy and happiness, that I could ‘fix’ Gerard, and ignore his past, and the fact that he had screwed most of the socialites in New York. The other part of me - the stubborn, unrelenting, resilient, part of me - couldn’t truly believe that it was the end.

I couldn’t make Gerard come back, though, as much as I wished he would walk back through the door, with an apologetic smirk on his face, and his large, hazel eyes wide, with his infamous ‘please forgive me’ puppy dog expression. I also couldn’t deny that I’d played a big part in making him walk away. I had done the one thing I’d never want done to me. I threw his past back in his face, in a fit of jealousy. Yes, part of me still questioned if Gerard had, indeed, used his connections from his past life to get his pitch, but my reaction was extreme.

I shouldn’t care if he did. It was just sex, something that would have been cold and basic in nature. It would have been a means to an end, and meaningless to Gerard. He didn’t see sex like I did. He had learned to separate it from his emotions, from his desires. It was a function, something he could do easily and mindlessly. It didn’t equate a need, or a desire. Could I really be angry with him, when it was probably an inherent part of his thinking to not think when it came to such an intimate act? Was it really worth losing him over? Had I damaged everything in a stupid moment over something that meant nothing?

That was when the tears came running down my cheeks, in floods that were embarrassing, even as I sat by myself. The sobs were silent, but none the less painful. It wasn’t just the burning cheeks, and the stinging eyes, that hurt. My stomach was cramped, unsettled. I wanted to vomit up my guts. My chest physically hurt in a way I had only experienced once before. Only, this time, it was much worse. The pain had no real comparison. It was off the scale, and indescribable. The closest description I could give, was to imagine someone punching a hole in my chest, and squeezing their hands around my heart and lungs, consistently, and without mercy. I truly would have died in that moment, rather than experience the pain I was suffering. And a bitter voice in my head just hoped that Gerard felt even a fraction of the pain I was experiencing.

I don’t know how long I was there for. All I know is that,eventually, I looked at the small coffee table in front of the couch. The wood and glass table I had picked out when I first moved in. It was cluttered, with papers, empty glasses and remotes. There was only one thing out of place.

A little card. One that was small enough to fit into a wallet. The same one that had instigated the fight we'd had. I found myself reaching forward, clutching the card with fascination. There, in neat, italic writing, was a name. And a number. And a business address. I was staring at the business card of the woman who had been the reason to the disintegration of my happiness.

Suddenly, it wasn’t sorrow I felt anymore. I felt something much better, and more volatile. I felt righteous anger, and a need for revenge. A need to confront the source of my misery. That was what got me off the couch, and into the shower. It got me dressed, and in no time at all, I was out the door, with one goal in mind.

Confront the bitch who had destroyed my happiness.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am alive. I just suck at managing time. Hope you guys are still sticking with this. There are only 2 chapters left! Can't believe it's almost done!
> 
> Thoughts? 
> 
> As always, hope you guys enjoyed this.   
> Lyra xx

*Gerard POV*

The phone call had rattled me at first. I almost hadn’t looked at the screen, in my determination to avoid the world, and everyone who inhabited it. I hadn’t expected the call, to be honest. It was just past 10 am, and I was still lying in bed. Apathy and lethargy was compelling my body to stay exactly where it was. Prone, still, and with no intention of leaving the small space I had claimed as my own.

Of course, the incessant ringing that was drilling a hole in my head, made me sit up. I reached over to disconnect the call, when I saw who the caller was.

_Dark Horse._

It wasn’t excitement I felt when I saw the screen flashing. It wasn’t hope, or painful anticipation if I would finally get the opportunity I had waited my whole life for. I felt nothing remotely positive in those seconds it took me to process.It was a thrill of fear, and dread, mixed in with a sinking feeling of rejection and resentment and bitterness that left my mouth very dry. I didn’t think the call would be anything good. In fact, it was going to be anything but. Would he try to be professional and courteous as he rejected my pitch, and give some made up reason as to why my comic idea sucked, or would he just come out with it, and tell me that there was no way the company would align themselves with someone would could bring their reputation in dispute?There were so many ways this call could go; there was only one possibility that could comefrom it, no matter how diplomatically it was delivered.

“Hello?” I eventually answered, before the phone cuts off to voicemail.

“Am I speaking to Gerard Way?”

I recognised the voice straight away. John Smith, the guy who I had tried to impress. Not that it would come to anything now. Gillian had made sure of that, no doubt.

“You are.”

“Hi, Gerard, this is John Smith from Dark Horse. Are you free to talk for a moment?”

I cleared my throat, bracing myself for the rejection that was coming.

“Of course.”

“Great. Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush. We’d love to take your comic on. We feel it’s the right fit for our company, and to be honest, we can see a lot of potential in terms of profitability. We’d like you to come in, and we can go over a few details, try to set some parameters to iron out a contract.”

I was stunned. My jaw had literally dropped, something I didn’t think actually happened in reality. I thought it was more a figure of speech, than an action that actually happened when one is dumbfounded, like I was. I had misheard; there was no way my pitch had been accepted. Surely Gillian, the evil bitch queen, had destroyed any chance that I would get into the comic book industry. She was a woman of her word; it didn’t make sense that she would stay quiet, and let me get on with my life, not after the lengths she had gone to, to try and pull me back into the lifestyle I had left behind.  

“Gerard?”

Mr Smith’s voice brought me back from the stupor I’d fallen into.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled out, the words tumbling from my mouth with little thought.

“Would you be free today? In say, one hour? My schedule is pretty full up for the next couple of weeks-“

“That’s fine. I’ll be there.”

“Perfect, Gerard. I’ll see you then.”

With that, the line went dead. I didn’t move a muscle, shock holding me still, while I mulled over the events of the the last sixty seconds. It didn’t feel real; I was certain that I was stuck in a dream, or worse, some kind of nightmare, where something even more terrifying was coming around the corner than a rejection phone call.

Maybe it was a sick plot of Gillian’s. Maybe when I got there, I would find out that it was all a rouse to get me exactly where Gillian wanted me. That was something she would do. I was certain of it.

***

An hour later, I was back in the building. The place was thrumming was people, hustling and bustling, as they got on with their normal working day. I was sweating, not just a little bit either. The collar of my shirt felt far too tight, even though I had unbuttoned the top, and loosened the tie. I probably looked as dishevelled as I felt, and I was certain everyone who so much as glanced at me could see it, _sense_ it coming off me. It was one of the most unpleasant sensations I had experienced in a very long time.

Everything was wrong. Nothing felt right. Not my clothes, not my general appearance, not the briefcase I carried, and certainly not the skin I wore. The whole situation felt unnatural, false, and calculated by someone else. I was a pawn in some game I wasn’t sure I fully understood.

The skin on the back of neck prickled, like a warning.

“Mr Way?” I looked up to see a young receptionist in front of me, “Mr Smith will see you now.”

“Thanks,” I tried my best to sound as though I wasn’t completely panicking.

The footsteps I took seemed to ring out hollowly, which was an obvious figment of my imagination, as there was far too much white noise for the sound to be distinctive to anyone’s ears. I was too on edge, everything was heightened and uncomfortable to every sense. The air was stifling; the air conditioning was a tad too hot; and the door handle to John’s office was so cold, it almost burned. I walked on in, knowing that he was expecting me to come in.

“Gerard,” John boomed the second I stepped inside, stepping out from behind his desk to great me, “Great to see you again! How have you been?”

“Fine,” I gave a small smile, and willed my nerves to stop so that I could meet John’s handshake with a steady hand. He had a kind face. He looked like someone who hadn’t yet sold their soul to the corporate world yet.There was no jadedness behind his eyes. He looked far younger than the middle aged man he was.

“Good, good. Let’s get straight to it, huh?” John smiled, waving for me to sit down as he settled back down behind his desk.

The next hour was a blur. Everything was numbers, facts and figures. It went over my head,everything Jon said. I just nodded my head, murmured some agreements, and generally acted as though I was giving the man in front of me one hundred percent of my attention. Which, I was, in a ‘what the fuck is actually going on?’ kind of way. None of it seemed real.

“Alright. I’ll get the contract-“

Just then, the phone rang. I jumped, high enough that my ass actually left the seat. John was startled, but seemed to recover well enough.

“Jessica, I told you to hold my calls,” he snapped.

I could hear a muffled voice, which was speaking too fast.

“Put her through,” John grumbled, not sounding very impressed.

“I’m sorry about this, Gerard,” he said, before I heard another voice sounding through the phone.

“Gillian, this better be important.”

I felt my blood turn cold. This was it. This was the moment when it all came crashing down. Everything I worked towards would be officially over, by the end of the phone call.

I kept my eyes on his face. I could see how the annoyance he held at the very beginning of the call was slowly fading, turning into what seemed like fear, or shock, as Gillian spoke. I swallowed as his face paled.

“What the hell is this, Gillian?”

His fist was clenched, resting on the desk in front of him. His face was focused on the desk in front of him, but I knew he wasn’t really looking at it.  I could hear she was still speaking when he hung the phone up.

I waited for John to look at me. I waited for the disgust to appear, and the accusatory words that he was going to fling my way. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on the desk, an almost blank expression on his face. There was a moment’s silence, one that was tense, as I waited for the onslaught. When he finally spoke again, he refused to look up at me. It unnerved me that his entire demeanour had changed.

“I’m sorry, Gerard, but we’re going to have to cut this short. I’ll get my secretary to send you a copy of the contract to look over and sign. I’ll be back in touch shortly, Gerard.”

Just like that, he dismissed me. He didn’t even stand, as I stood up. He didn’t say anything else as I walked out of the room, confused as fuck.

What had Gillian said?


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Lyra is still alive? It would appear so my dears, and I offer this update as my apology for my long disappearance! I hope you enjoy it, and please don't hate me for taking so long!
> 
> Lyra xx

Chloe POV

I wasn’t fully aware of what I was doing, or where I was going. I felt like I was having an out of body experience, like it wasn’t really me in this body. It wasn’t Chloe who was walking down the middle of the street, pushing her way through the throng of the busy city, thoughts only on one thing as I bumped and pushed through the crowd.

There was a feeling of blank numbness, yet underneath there was a simmering fury that was like nothing I had ever experienced before. My actions were primitive, without conscious thought. All I knew was that I had to get to Gillian. Tear her apart, break her down, destroy her, just like she had destroyed the happiness I had fleetingly had.

The address on her business card was familiar to me; it was only a few blocks away from where I worked myself, and in the same building that Andrea worked in. I didn’t have a plan in place as I stormed towards Gillian’s office;  if I had been in my rational mind, and not a puddle of hurt, anger and resentment rolled into one, things might have turned out very differently.

It wasn’t a long journey on a normal day, but that day, it felt like I had only just walked out onto the street when I was suddenly outside the building. I didn’t give a shit about the fact that my clothes were dishevelled, my hair had gone a couple of days without seeing a brush, and I had yet to brush my teeth or wash up properly. My appearance had been the last thing on my mind.

I walked into the atrium, and with a quick glance at the sign above the reception, I found the floor Gillian was located on.

There was another reception when I reached the floor, just opposite the lift. I held my head up high with righteous anger when I focused in on the young secretary sitting behind a well polished, expensive looking wooden desk which ensured that a safe distance was kept between us. The girl didn’t even hide the almost scathing look that flashed on her face when she finally saw me. I couldn’t really blame her; I looked like a menacing mess as I approached her, certainly something that shouldn’t be entering such a well respected and renowned law firm.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“I need to see Gillian Adams,” I demanded, with no politeness in my voice.

“Miss Adams is busy at the minute. May I suggest you make an appointment-”

“I need to see her NOW.”

“Miss, as I already informed you, Miss Adams is busy with a case at the moment. I can give you an appointment for tomorrow if-”

I stopped listening to her, and instead decided to take matters into my own hands. Down the corridor, and on the left, not a few meters from here I stood, I could see Gillian’s name engraved on a shiny brass sign on a closed, glass door.

My feet didn’t wait for my brain to tell them what to do. They instantly moved towards the door with a speed similar to the frenzied pace I had walked outside.

“Miss, you can’t just go in there!”

The girl jumped out from behind her desk, desperate to catch up to me before I barged into Gillian’s office. My head start ensured that I won the race, and with a triumphant shove, I opened the door with a vicious push.

“You bitch,” I spat the second I laid eyes on the woman sitting behind a fancy looking, and certainly expensive, desk.

Gillian looked up from the stack of papers in front of her, her shrewd eyes lighting up with a look that could only be described as humorous. There was no real alarm or fear on her face. In those few seconds, I could see everything I needed to know about her. She was cold, hardened from experience, and as a lawyer, well able to contain her emotions. She didn’t show any hint of surprise over my unannounced visit, or the name I’d viciously called her. It obviously wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

“Have we met before?” She asked sweetly, just as the secretary rushed in behind me.

“Miss Adams, I’m so sorry! I told her you were busy, but she just ran in! I’ll get security right away.”

“I’m sure there’s no need for that, Olivia. I don’t think I’m in any danger from…sorry, what’s your name?”

I gritted my teeth, my hands shaking as I balled them into fists that were aching to punch that calm exterior off Gillian’s face.

“My name is Chloe, but that doesn’t matter. You don’t know me, but I sure as hell know a _lot_ about you. Like your penchant for sleeping with male prostitutes, for one, and using your contacts to make sure they get in with the right people, in order to keep them under your thumb.”

I heard a sharp gasp of surprise behind me, reminding me there was another person in the room.

“Olivia, could you please leave us?” Gillian asked, in a sickeningly sweet voice that told me I was in dangerous territory. I couldn’t give a single fuck.

The door was shut behind us softly, and I almost felt sorry for the poor girl who was probably a bit shaken.

Gillian didn’t move, at first; her eyes remained focused on me, and I was certain she was deliberating how to deal with me in those few seconds.

“Well, it appears I’ve met the woman Gerard has told me about. I can see why he’s smitten by you.”

The sarcasm was heavy, but I paid no heed to it.

“And you’re the woman who needs to pay a man to get some.”

“What I choose to do in my spare time is none of your concern.”

“So, you admit to paying for sex, with my boyfriend?”

“So what if I do? I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am now, and having a relationship didn’t suit me. Men pay for sex frequently when it’s a more convenient option; why should I be denied the same convenience?”

“You do know prostitution is illegal, right?”

“As a lawyer, I’m well aware of the law. What I do doesn’t hurt anyone. In fact, I paid your boyfriend very handsomely for his services. He never complained once he got his money. He was nothing but a play thing I used for my convenience. He chose his path in life; have you ever thought about that? ”

My blood boiled. Hearing her talk about Gerard that way, like he was nothing, hurt more than if someone had been degrading me in such a way. Gerard, even with his faults, was still the most amazing man I had ever met.

“And you’re a better person, huh? Tell me, what does it say about you when you have to get your kicks from someone you deem lesser than you?”

“That I’m in control, Chloe. Is there a reason you came here, other than to try to make me feel guilt over something I have no shame over?”

She leaned back in her chair, and it was only then that I spotted the large diamond on her left hand. The disgust I felt only increased the second my eyes landed on the far too large rock. This woman was engaged.

“I wonder how your fiancé would feel about it?”

The words were tumbled from my mouth, having the desired effect when I saw her face pale. She managed to pull herself together, though, and once again plastered that smile on her face.

“If that’s a threat, it’s a very poor one. I’m fortunate to have a fiancé who adores me to the point of foolishness, and I doubt he’d believe the likes of you.”

“Even after I’ve just recorded this entire conversation?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and with a few clicks, I played back the conversation.

And that was when I knew I had her where I wanted her.

“Seeing as you’ve just admitted to paying for sex, I’m pretty sure I could ruin your career. I’m sure the press will have a field day, when word gets out that one of the city’s top female lawyers-”

“Why don’t you get to the point where you demand money for your silence?”

“Oh, I don’t want your money. I have more than enough. No, I want more than that. You ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. Now, I’m going to do the same to you. You’re going to pick up your phone, call your charming fiancé, and let him out of his misery by telling him the truth, before I go to the papers and expose who you really are to the world.”

****

I thought I would feel a sense of satisfaction, or relief, when Gillian casually told her fiancé the truth in a matter of seconds over the phone. I didn’t get either. The lack of hurt showed on her face as she spoke the words, the absence of guilt or remorse was plain to see when she hung up the phone and looked at me with a raised eyebrow which held one clear message.

I didn’t win. I couldn’t. Not with a creature as unfeeling as the woman who’d stolen my happiness. She wasn’t attached to the man she was going to marry, he was only a pawn in her game of life, just like everyone else. He was a means to an end, nothing more. He wasn’t her entire world, the reason she smiled in the morning, or got angry as hell. I only felt sorrow, when I realised she was a woman who never knew passion.

Not like I had with Gerard.

I went home after the anticlimax that was my confrontation with Gillian. The hurt and pain was flooding back with a vengeance, and all of a sudden I was totally aware of how pathetic I was. I was dirty, a mess, a broken down piece of nothing, all over a man. A man who made me feel things I never thought I would feel again, things I didn’t think I would _want_ to feel anymore.

I needed to scrub away the pain, and a shower was the only thing I could think about. I scrubbed, and shaved, and let the warm water wash away the ache in my muscles that I hadn’t realised were there. I washed my hair, and couldn’t help but feel disgust over the dirt that rinsed away along with the foam down the drain.

Then, I was on a mission. I needed to get back to my old self, at least in appearance. I decided to get dressed up, to feel pretty again, the way Gerard used to make me feel whenever I put on a pair of tight jeans or a clingy dress. I wanted to be that Chloe again, the one who was more confident, who felt sexy and wanted. Who wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted.

And what I wanted, in spite of everything, was Gerard. He was still the only person who made me feel like it was okay to be myself, and I didn’t want to go back to being the shut-off shell of a person I had become. And just like that, I knew what I had to do.

With my heart racing, I sent Gerard one last text message.

_I want to start over again. If you do, meet me in Deliah’s in an hour._

I continued getting ready, my heart still pounding incessantly. He didn’t reply to the message, but I couldn’t let it defeat my new found optimism. He was going to be there. He had to be there. I stepped out of my apartment complex, and hailed a taxi. I was shaking as I entered the nightclub by myself, and it wasn’t from the chill of the air. That night would be the beginning of a new chapter, I just had no idea how it would start yet.


	20. Chapter 20

It was late in the evening. The sun was still visible in the sky, though it wouldn’t be long before it completely disappeared. The diamond ring on my ring finger glinted in the dying light of day as I folded my arms across my chest. There was a cool breeze, which made me shiver, but I didn’t make any other movements. I wanted to appreciate the moment, take in the sight before me while I could.

  
  


It had been two years since the day I burst into Gillian’s office. Two years since I had made one last attempt to get back the man I loved. It was a long stretch of time, and looking back, it was hard to believe how things had changed in those forty-eight months. I no longer lived in the city, in a modern apartment that held so many memories of a time I could never get back. I lived in the suburbs now, in an idyllic house with a picket fence and a golden retriever dog in the back yard who was spoilt rotten. It wasn’t anything too fancy, nothing that was out of the ordinary, but it was perfect. Two years ago, I would never have imagine my life would turn out to be so...ordinarily cliché.

  
  


_I had waited in the bar for over an hour, hoping that I would be given a chance to make amends for my mistakes. I wanted to prove that I could handle Gerard’s past. Whatever he did with Gillian, he did it because he felt he had no other choice. I knew that now. I didn’t want to let one moment of weakness destroy everything we had. The last few months showed me the potential we had, even if things got fiery at times. Neither of us were perfect, but the flaws and fights were what made us special. That spark kept us alive, made us connect in a way we couldn’t connect with others._

  
  


_I watched the hour turn into an hour and a half, and then two hours. I slowly began to realise that he wasn’t coming. I believed, foolishly, that I could fix things. One text would erase the pain and heartbreak. Instead, I was alone, waiting for someone who lost their faith in me. I had doubted him, let my jealousy cloud my reaction, and now I was paying the price for it. I downed the rest of my wine, grimacing when I felt the bitter burn going down my throat and warming my chest._

  
  


_The despair when I walked out of Delia's hit a depth I never knew existed. Whatever I felt before was nothing compared to the hopelessness of a dashed dream. I allowed myself to believe that, for once, I would get my happy ending. That someone out there would love me, in spite of my tendency to close myself off, and my issues with trust. I had let my worst fears come to pass, and I couldn’t blame anybody but myself. I tried, but it seemed that my flaws were just too great to conquer. The trek back home went by quickly, my mind filled with self-recrimination and a desperate need to curl up in a ball and never leave the comfort of my apartment again._

  
  


_The doorman gave me a quick nod when I entered the building, and I somehow mustered the energy to give him a fleeting closed-lip smile. I took the stairs instead of the elevator; my legs weren’t ready to stop just yet. I wasn’t ready to walk back into the apartment, alone. The very idea that I had failed was tough enough; by stepping back inside the place I called home with Gerard made it all so real. The lump in my throat grew bigger with every step I took, and was physically painful when I got to my floor._

_I thought I was hallucinating when I saw him, waiting outside the apartment. Leaning casually against the wall, his head bent as though the floor was the most fascinating thing ever. My heart skipped a beat, then started to beat wildly. The lump in my throat wouldn’t let me swallow, or use my voice. I was frozen, suddenly full of fear and a desperate need to cry and let all the emotion out. He wasn’t aware of my presence for a while, and I was in no rush to hurry the moment. I wanted to take him in, remember what he looked like, and how he was always slouched over, even as he leaned against the wallpapered wall. His long dark eyelashes were noticeable, even with the distance between us._

  
  


_He did finally notice me, his hazel eyes meeting my brown ones. I started shaking, and my breaths were ragged. I couldn’t make myself speak, all I could do was look at him, silently beg him to make the first move. I stood there, like an idiot, wishing something, anything, would happen. Eventually, he broke the silence._

  
  


“ _Hey,” his voice was soft when he spoke._

  
  


“ _Hey,” I replied, almost choking on the word._

  
  


_The silence that fell was stifling. I bit my lip, wanting to say something. Words just wouldn’t escape my throat. For a second time, he cut through the awkwardness._

  
  


“ _You said you wanted to start over, but I don’t know if I want to.”_

  
  


_The words crushed me, taking all the air from my lungs. My legs trembled on the spot, barely able to keep me upright. Gerard didn’t seem to notice my current state, or maybe he just didn’t care._

  
  


“ _Starting over means forgetting what happened before, and I can’t. I won’t. After I got your message, I was thinking about ‘us’, and how it went wrong. I retraced every step, every little thing I did to piss you off, all the times you got me seeing red. It suddenly came to me. We both run away whenever things get hard. We don’t like to face that we might be wrong, that maybe we made a mistake. We’re as bad as each other.”_

  
  


_He paused, standing up straighter, his hands in his coat pockets. His hair was all over the place, and even in that moment, all I wanted to do was run my hands through it and fix it._

  
  


“ _The thing is, at the end of the day, we both want the same thing. We just want someone to take us as we are, someone who can love us in spite of the fact we’re both pretty fucked up human beings.”_

  
  
  


I heard the back door close with a gentle thump, and within seconds I felt a familiar presence behind me. My body relaxed, an automatic reaction to the feel of arms wrapped around me. The warmth made goose bumps prickle all over my arms.

  
  


“Are you sure you want to do this?”

  
  


I gave the question a little thought, before answering, still watching the sun setting on the horizon.

  
  


“Not really. But I think it’s for the best, don’t you?”

  
  


Gerard sighed wistfully, “You realise burning shit won’t actually change the past, right?”

  
  


I turned my face to face him. “I know, but this is a new beginning for us, Gerard; we’re starting a new chapter in our lives. I just want to make sure the last one is left in the past. I don’t want the reminders lying around, you know? Not because it hurts, or anything, but having stuff lying makes it feel like it’s part of the present, and it’s not.”

  
  


He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat like it did every time he smiled.

  
  


“Alright. I gotta say, I’m going to miss these jeans.” He said, pulling the jeans off their resting place on his shoulder. The jeans he wore on the night we met, the one that was almost like his calling card.

  
  


“You don’t even wear them anymore. Anyway, do you really think I’d let you wear them after we get married?”

  
  


“You just don’t want other women looking at my cute ass.”

  
  


“The day after tomorrow, that ass is technically half mine, so…no, I don’t want other people ogling what’s mine.”

  
  


“Fair enough. I’ll let you do the honours.”

  
  


He handed me the jeans, and I wasted no time in throwing them in an empty trashcan. Gerard handed me the gasoline, and watched me pouring it over the jeans.

  
  


I pulled the matches out of my pocket, my hands shaking from the cold as I took one out. I hesitated, before I handed it to Gerard.

  
  


“I think it should be you who does it. They were yours, after all.”

  
  


He took the matches, a thoughtful look on his face.

  
  


“Goodbye, old friend,” He said dramatically as he struck the match, setting the tip alight, “We had some good times together, but now it’s time for a final farewell. May we meet again on the other side.”

  
  


I couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, and with a flourish of his wrist he let the match fall into the trashcan. We were silent as we watch the jeans get caught up in the flames, both of us lapping up the warmth that came from the small fire. After a few minutes, the jeans completely disintegrated. Gerard got the hose to put the fire out, making a quick job of it.

 

“You know I didn't sleep with Gillian, don't you?”

 

Gerard's word's hung in the air. He brought up the one subject we never talked about. I could never bring myself to ask him what had really happened, if my accusations had been true; and Gerard had never confirmed or denied it. So, I had let it go, believing that some things were left unsaid. In my heart, I knew the truth.

 

“I know.”

 

Comfortable silence engulfed us, until the temperature began to drop.

  
  


“I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing. Let’s go back inside.” Gerard suggested, holding his hand out.

  
  


I took his hand, ignoring the spots of ink that dotted his palm. He had worked all day on his newest comic. He’d finally made it in the comic book industry, and I couldn’t have been prouder whenever I saw his hands stained from a day’s work.

  
  


“Alright.”

  
  


I followed him inside, a smile tugging at my lips. I’d finally found the person who loved me for who I was, and I loved him back just the same, even if we argued half the time and drove each other crazy. Things weren’t perfect, and they never would be, but as long as we had each other, we could get through anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot apologize enough for the lack of updating. I just haven't had much time or motivation to even read, let alone write. I finally got myself together and wrote. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the ending. Was it what you were hoping for? Please comment and let me know.
> 
> To anyone reading this, thank you for staying with this story. I truly appreciate every one of you.
> 
> Lyra xxx


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